June first was an important day for the Drake brothers. This year marked the tenth anniversary of their mother's death. On this day every year since, the brothers met at a small cabin at the heart of Port Charles. They would stay up all night talking about what they remembered of their mother, drinking, and roasting marshmallows over the burners of the wood-burning stove tucked away in the corner of the kitchen. There were three bedrooms on the second floor; the kitchen, living room, and half bath made up the first floor. Nothing about the cabin was up-to-date besides the indoor plumbing. There wasn't a single working phone in the place or a television for that matter. No white noise. No interruptions. Just the guys.

Patrick had picked up enough groceries for the day so that they wouldn't run out, but not so much that he would have to worry about it spoiling in their absence. He cracked a half a dozen eggs into the cast-iron skillet he had watched his mother use a hundred times. Scrambled, he reminded himself and separated them. Logan was a brat when it came to breakfast food. He would only eat scrambled eggs, he wouldn't go near anything slightly burnt, and he wouldn't be caught dead drinking orange juice that hadn't been freshly squeezed. Patrick supposed he could blame his brother's upbringing for the way he was. Neither Noah nor Maddie Drake had ever denied their youngest son anything, and Patrick was having to pay the price.

As he stirred in the ingredients for pancakes, he couldn't help but think of his mother. She had been just shy of forty, but she had looked half her age. Patrick had inherited her deep chocolate hair and they had also shared a tiny dimple in their chins. He had Noah's smile and chestnut-brown eyes--the shape mimicked Maddie's--and they were about the same build. Logan resembled their mother the best. While his hair was lighter than Maddie's had been, he was her same height and had her small hands. One could say that Logan had her nose as well. Patrick hadn't seen it, but his father always swore it to be true. The room had truly brightened when his mother had walked into a room. Chocolate hair flowing to the small of her back, she had been polite but opinionated, formal but casual, nonjudgmental, and truly the most beautiful woman Patrick had ever seen.

It was truly a miracle of genetics that she was Luke Spencer's little sister, because they couldn't have been more different. While Maddie had had pea-green eyes, Luke's held a foggy blue tint. She had barely reached five-foot-five while he towered almost a full foot above her. His hair had been shaggy, curly, and blonde while hers had been straight-as-a-board flat and brown. Grandpa Spencer always joked that one of them had simply been dropped off at the wrong address by a confused stork. Maddie's overall appearance had mirrored Patrick's great grandmother, Carina Spencer. Bobbie Spencer, Lucky and Patrick's aunt, had been the baby of the three children and she had come out with red curly hair, so it was really anyone's guess as to who she resembled, save her oldest grandchild, Michael Corinthos III.

Patrick had lucked out with his mother's family, because Noah was all that remained of the Drake family, not counting his sons. Laura had taken Patrick under her wing at an early age, but Logan had rejected her at first sight. He had gone to live with his girlfriend's parents for a while until he got kicked out for smoking weed in their home. He had bounced from career to career since then, nothing really sparking an interest in him. It was only in the last few years that his brother had settled on construction. There was money in it, but he was an avid gambler, and had bet it all one night in Atlantic City. Not long after, he had met Robin Scorpio, and his luck seemed to have changed drastically. How could he have known that she would clean him out so swiftly after a short, unfulfilled marriage? Patrick shook his head. Robin Scorpio didn't belong here. Today was simply about him and his brother sharing the memories of a mother who had been stolen from them at an early age.

Patrick placed the eggs on a plate to cool and poured a bit of batter into the flat cast-iron to his right. Less than five minutes later, the table was covered in dishes full of sweet-smelling food. He glanced over at the clock. It was almost eleven and Logan hadn't showed his scraggly face yet. Patrick went to the living room to retrieve his cell phone and saw that, along with a bar of battery life left, he had one glowing message. Irrationally, he thought it might have been Emily. Laughing uncomfortably, he pressed the number for his voicemail and patiently waited for the caller's identity to be revealed. He leaned against the overstuffed cream couch, crossing one ankle over the other.

"Hey, this is Logan. Your brother. One and only. The light of your life. Anyway, I won't be able to make it this year. Something came up. I'll totally be there next year though. Don't burn down that old shack. Love you. Bye." This was unreal, Patrick thought to himself. He replayed the message several times and then dialed his younger brother's number. As expected, the phone was turned off and he heard the answering machine click on.

"What the hell do you mean you can't make it ? It's one day out of the year for Christ's sake! Is that so much to ask for you ungrateful little bastard?" Then he threw his spent phone across the room, wishing it would just shatter into a billion pieces. Closer inspection proved that it was indestructible. Goddamn modern electronics were more reliable than his stupid brother!

Cruz checked his watch. It was nearing noon and still no sign of his newest photographer, Adam Czerwinski. Not a good sign. In Cruz's low paying world, a late photographer more often than not meant one who had gone for a better paying job without bothering to mention it to the harried editor left behind.

Axe wandered by, humming a song that other people had assumed was by a watered-down Linkin Park. Cruz knew the truth. It was from the newest Broadway rock musical. Maybe with his constant flirting with the receptionist, he had intercepted a message that just hadn't gotten to him yet. "Axe, have you heard from Adam?"

Axe looked towards the ceiling, deep in thought. "No. Margie called from the press conference thingy. Lynn is doing the profile on that horse girl. Greg has an interview with that sports dude." Axe's inability to get the actual names of anything but bands and solo artists was one of the main reasons Cruz had never thought to give the guy any assignment other than the music column. "Nope. No Adam."

"Shit."

Glancing at the clock, Axe's green eyes widened in sudden understanding. "Oh, boss man. Not a good sign." Axe had been there longer than anyone save Cruz. He knew the score.

"Just go away. Leave me in my hell." Cruz walked off to his desk. Once he sat down, he placed his head on the desk and let out a low groan. "Fuck..."

Adam had been a bit of a flake, but he was a great photographer. Cruz hadn't been stupid enough to think he would stick around, but apparently he had been stupid enough to expect Adam to give notice before he skipped out.

He raised his head to check his assignment calendar on his desk to assess the damage. Maybe he could shift some of Adam's remaining assignments to one of the other photographers?

Cruz let out a sigh of relief when he saw Adam had already completed most of the more intricate assignments that had been assigned to him. The profile piece Lynn was writing would be easy enough to get completed. The other photographer Lowell was actually a pretty decent portrait artist. Lowell could easily cover that one.

The profile on the bakery however was going to be harder. It was a cover piece and required not only portrait, but action and food shots. Even the most talented photographer would find it challenging, but an experienced one would be able to do it in the one day time frame. Cruz was good on talent. He was short on experience.

The only photographer Cruz knew that was talented enough and experienced enough to handle the shoot was Patrick. Normally his friend would be way out of his budget, but Cruz had done enough "Get rid of my date" favors over the years to be able to cash that chip in. No, the main problem wouldn't be getting Patrick to do the job. It was the job itself.

The owner of the shop in question was one Robin Scorpio. Baker extraordinaire and public enemy number one as far as Patrick was concerned. He knew that his friend blamed Robin for Logan's downward spiral after their divorce and Patrick had never really believed the accusations Robin had come forwarded with in court. Knowing Logan, Cruz and Lucky had both tended to believe Robin, but were smart enough not to mention that fact to Patrick. If Lucky was the poster child for overprotective brother where Lulu was concerned, Patrick was the poster child for blind spot ten miles wide were Logan was concerned.

Getting Patrick to agree to be anywhere near Robin would be next to impossible. Peace in the Middle East would be more likely to occur. A wise man wouldn't tell Patrick who the profile was about, a voice in his head, sounding strangely like Lucky's father Luke, advised him. A wise man, Luke's voice continued, would just beg his friend to do a favor for him and give him the address.

"And then what? Leave town with no forwarding address?" Cruz mumbled to himself.

"Boss man?" Looking up Cruz caught Axe's concerned eye. Catching the boss talking to himself was not a confidence inspiring move.

Shaking his head, Cruz forced himself to ignore the undoubtedly bad advice of Luke. "It's nothing Axe. What's up?"

"You got a call. Line two. And she sounds hot."

She? Cruz picked up the phone with a smile. "This is Cruz Rodriguez, editor. How can I help you?"

Her distinct laugh greeted him. "Were you trying to impress someone with that? Don't you normally just grunt?"

"I was told a hot-sounding woman was on hold for me. I do aim to impress."

"Oh you are most impressive sir." Her voice dropped an octave, which had a lethal effect on him and she knew it. Evil wench.

"Careful. You keep talking like that and I won't be responsible for what I do to you."

"Promise?"

Damn how did he get so lucky to have this woman in his life? "Is this going to be nothing more than phone fun or do we get to see each other tonight?"

"That's why I'm calling. Nine at Cafe Mermout work for you?" She rattled off the name of one of the most secluded restaurants in town.

"Perfect. I'll see you then."

"You better." She laughed as she hung up.

Amazing how one short conversation with her had completely changed his mood. Even the perplexing problem of how to get Patrick to actually take on the assignment of shooting Robin's bakery couldn't bring him down. He pushed the assignment calendar away from him. He'd figure out someway to get Patrick to do the job for him, even if he did have to lie to his friend to do it. Right now he had more important things to worry about. Namely how exactly to refrain from calling her back every hour until he could see her again.