Chapter Three:
Patrick sat in the lounge and exhaled. It had been a really long night. He was waiting while Robin was being assessed in a room and he debated staying or leaving.
It felt ridiculous to be here, really. He didn't know her and he was sure she had a list of suitors to take care of her. Besides, he wasn't interested.
That wasn't true.
He thought she was different. She was funny and sarcastic and beautiful. She was a doctor, although he had no idea of her specialty. She looked at him with respect and he knew, if she had all of the info, that would change.
He stood up and crossed his arms.
This was silly. He turned to leave when he heard her.
"Patrick?"
He turned and saw she was wearing a pair of scrubs and her head had a bandage on it. She looked as tired as he felt, but there was a sense of comfort that came over him when she smiled.
"I was just leaving," he said. "Can you get your own ride home?"
She was stung.
"Oh, of course. Thanks for bringing me here," she said simply.
He didn't know why he was such an ass.
"Sure. I'll see you around," he said and left.
She watched him walk away and made her way to her office. She would call a cab and get back to her car which was still at the office building. She was worried about him. He seemed like a lost soul, and she wondered just what he had been through.
Where did he work? He said he was in research, but she didn't know his last name. She didn't remember if he had told her or not. Reaching her office, she walked in and locked the door, dropping her purse and sitting on the lush couch. She knew she had a full day of appointments tomorrow, and there was no way she would cancel.
Her specialty was unique and the patients who came to see her usually were out of options. They sometimes came from far away and to them, this was everything. To her, it was as well. She wanted to help people. She wanted to be someone who gave people hope and kept families together.
She knew what it was like to have no hope.
She never wanted another person to feel that way.
She grabbed her blanket and sighed. Maybe she would close her eyes for just a minute.
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He didn't even ask her if she was okay.
He didn't fucking ask her if she was okay.
Patrick paced in his hotel room and wanted to punch something. He was so confused and angry and embarrassed. He had come here for a visit with the top infectious disease specialist in the Country and he needed to simply make it to the appointment and then leave. He had no time for anything else and the fact he even ventured out today was stupid.
He was heading to see a psychologist when he got stuck in the elevator. He knew he shouldn't have gone and he was angry for agreeing. It was as if karma was stepping in when he went into the elevator. He didn't need a shrink. He needed to go back in time and change things.
He sat down on the couch in the room and rubbed his face.
He told her he was a researcher.
What a fucking joke.
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The knock on the door woke her from her slumber and Robin sat up with a start.
"Dr. Scorpio? Are you in there?"
"Shit. Shit, shit, shit!" she scrambled up and looked at her watch. It was morning and she hadn't moved from the couch.
"I'm here," she called out to her assistant, Dante. "I'll be out in a little bit."
"Okay. I brought bagels," he said.
Robin smiled and walked into the bathroom she had in her office. She groaned at the bruise on her forehead and the bandage she had that was half stuck to her hair.
The doctor at the ER had checked her out, and she just had a nice knot on her head, but nothing serious. The bleeding had stopped and her neurological function was normal.
She brushed her teeth and cleaned up as best she could before she carefully pulled her hair up and fastened it to the side, doing her best to cover the bruise. She changed into a pair of dress slacks and shirt and put a new lab coat on.
Good as new.
Dante smiled when Robin walked into the private lounge in their office. There were other doctors and nurses talking and she grabbed some coffee before she sat down with him.
"You were here early," he said.
She blushed and nodded.
"I had some charts to look at," she said, not lying. She did have charts; she just never looked at them.
"Well let me know if you need a nap. I don't know how you work so hard," he laughed.
Robin smiled and took a muffin.
"How is Lulu doing?" she asked and he smiled. Lulu was his fiancé and she had been getting over a bad bought of the flu.
"She's better. I took your advice and gave her some fluids and she really perked up. Her fever is gone and I think she might actually put on some real clothes today."
Robin laughed.
"Well I suppose that's progress."
"Trust me, in this case, it is," Dante grinned.
"I'll take your word for it."
She looked at the pile of charts in her box and ignored the image of Patrick's face that kept creeping into her brain.
Time to get to work.
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Chapter Four:
Patrick sat in the exam room and sighed. He got up to leave a bunch of times, but he knew he couldn't. He had to see if this doctor could help him.
He looked around the room and saw the framed picture of a serene setting. He laughed to himself at how ridiculous that was. Nothing about this was serene. Nothing about this was normal and nothing about this was okay. He went to get up again when there was a knock on the door and he jumped as it opened.
"Dr. Drake?" a man walked in, about his age and handsome.
"Yes," Patrick said.
"Hi. I'm Dante Falconeri, Dr. Scorpio's assistant. I would like to ask you some questions if that's okay."
"Sure."
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Robin was exhausted, but she felt good about her day so far. She had seen a few patients who had been trying a new cocktail and things had been working well for them. She went to her office to eat a snack before her last patient. She sat at her desk and looked over the notes on the computer that Dante had just taken. It was a new patient, and his case was heartbreaking.
She took a drink of juice and a bite of her sandwich before she headed out to meet him. She knocked on the door and opened it, smiling at Dante and looking at the patient.
It was Patrick.
Patrick looked up and froze.
Robin?
Dante was oblivious to any issue and began his usual introduction.
"Dr. Scorpio, this is Dr. Drake. I have his most recent blood work and the answers to his profile. Please let me know what else you would like me to draw."
"Thank you Dante," Robin smiled and he walked out.
"I don't believe it," Patrick said and got up.
"Where are you going?" she asked as she sat down on the stool in the room.
"There is no way I'm letting you treat me."
"Why? Because I'm a woman?"
He looked at her like she was crazy.
"No, of course not."
"Then why?"
"What do you mean? You know why. Because of what happened last night."
"I'll try not to be too insulted by your assessment of me, but I am a professional, and what happens outside of my office has no bearing on my work. If you're scared, then admit it, but don't hide behind some stupid elevator incident."
He was stunned by her.
"I'm not scared," he said and sat back down.
"Okay, so tell me what you want to do. I'm a very busy woman and I don't have time for this. If you want the best, then I'm here, if you want to let your arrogance dictate your treatment, then feel free to leave," she stood up and crossed her arms.
"You think you can help me?" he asked seriously.
"With your personality? No, but with your HIV? Absolutely."
He smiled at her and she raised her eyebrows.
"I'm sorry. I would like your help."
"You don't have to be sorry. This is a professional relationship and how you act is your business," she sat back down and looked at his chart.
"Tell me how you've been feeling," she put a pair of glasses on and he thought she was the most beautiful thing he had seen.
"Patrick? Are you okay?"
He blushed and shook his head.
"Can't you look at my test results to see how I am?"
She sighed.
"I didn't ask about your numbers, I asked how you were feeling."
He was quiet for a minute.
"Shitty."
"Shitty how?"
He looked at his hands.
"I am tired all the time but I can't sleep. I can't keep a lot of food in my body; it depends on the time of day as to which end it comes out. I have a rash on my chest, I feel like I'm chewing on cotton, and oh yeah, I'm HIV positive."
She felt terrible at what he was saying and she knew he was probably making it sound better than it was, even though it sounded bad.
"Have you tried any of the preventative therapies before beginning your regimen?"
"Yes. Nothing works."
She nodded.
"Have you had to adjust your work schedule at all?"
"I quit."
"Why?"
"I think you know why. I was a doctor. I can't treat people and be HIV positive."
"Why not?"
He was quiet again for a minute.
"Because I could infect a patient."
"How?"
He was frustrated.
"You know how. I could cut myself."
"How often have you openly bled into another person's open wound during your years of practice?"
"Never."
She nodded.
"So what makes you think it will happen now?"
"I don't know. Besides, I would have to tell everyone my personal business and it's embarrassing."
"Are you ashamed of being HIV positive?"
"Look, I thought you were the best. I didn't come here for a therapy session. Can you do anything to help me or not?"
She stood up and closed his chart.
"I don't think so. Sorry you wasted a trip."
"What? You aren't even going to try?"
She put the chart down and walked to him.
"I am the best because I treat the whole person and not just the disease. I ask questions because the numbers only tell me part of the story. No two people are alike and the way your body reacts to the meds is more than simply a result of chemistry. Your lifestyle and attitude is important to your overall well-being and if the disease effects your ability to live the life you wanted, then I want to figure out how to help you."
He watched as she continued.
"You have already made up your mind. You have a chip on your shoulder the size of Texas and with an attitude like that; I don't know that even I can help you. Having HIV is terrible, I get it, but being an asshole is your choice. You have to want to fight this disease. By giving up your practice and turning angry at the world, you have given this disease all the power. I won't waste my time with someone who doesn't want to get better. I'll be happy to recommend someone else who might be a better fit for you. In the meantime, I'll write you a script for some meds that will help with the side effects."
"How do you know what will work for me? I told you nothing helped."
She shrugged.
"I found one that worked for me, so I think it might work for you."
He was stunned.
"You?"
She sighed and turned when she was at the door.
"You aren't the only one whose been dealt a bad hand, Patrick. It might be a good time to remember that. Goodbye."
She walked out and he was frozen to the spot, stunned and more than a little intrigued.
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