Robin climbed the stairs, her right hand sliding up the wooden banister as she did so. Morgan hadn't been out of bed all day, according to her next-door neighbor, Mrs. Eckles. The eighty-year-old woman was nice enough to check on him when Robin was at work. She was the one who had phoned, informing Robin of Morgan's cough. She was a modern-day Mary Poppins without the black hat and negative outlook on life.

On her left hand, she wore an oven mitt. On top of the oven mitt, she balanced his bowl of soup. Just two steps to go. Who had moved the mat? She was certain she had put it in front of the bathroom door, but now it sat next to the stairs, bunched up. It didn't matter. She carefully stepped over the neutral-colored mat, stopping in front of Morgan's room. She fisted her free hand and knocked softly against the wood. A chalkboard advertising, "Please Nok" hung on the doorknob. Robin snickered and called his name, "Morgan? Are you awake? I brought you some soup." She waited a moment and then let herself inside, finding the small child lying on top of his soccer-themed comforter with both of his feet propped up on a black and white pillow. "Should I come back, Your Majesty?" She teased lightly and, miracle of all miracles, he actually smiled.

"Now, I kind of burned the first batch of noodles, but that'll just be our little secret. No reason to tell Aunt Courtney." Robin advised her adopted son. The mischievous expression he wore proved her wrong.

Robin pulled the tiny TV tray out from under the six-year-old's bed and set it in front of him, putting the bowl, oven mitt and all, down. "I want you to be very careful. I put in some ice to cool it off." She handed him a spoon and ruffled his hair. "Mrs. Eckles told me about your sore throat. She even suggested I give you some medicine." Morgan made a face at her. "Don't worry, I turned her down. No kid of mine is going to swallow slimy green medicine." She assured him, wiggling her nose at the thought.

Morgan met her goofy face with a sad expression. Robin picked up on it immediately. "You miss your mom and dad, don't you?" She guessed. Morgan's answer was to take a quick bite of his soup. "It's okay to miss them, Morgan. I miss them." His head shot up. "Well, maybe I miss your dad a little more than your mom, but she did keep me on my toes, and she was--she was an incredible mother. She loved you and Michael so much." Robin treaded lightly, not wanting to insult a dead woman or hurt her child in the process.

"What have you got here?" Robin commented, picking up the large stack of books Morgan had at the end of his bed. "Comic books?" Morgan nodded. "I always wanted to be Wonder Woman. What about you?"

He ignored her question and took a few more bites. "No worries, buddy." She assured him. "You'll talk when you're good and ready." No reason to let him see how much it broke her heart.

"I wanted to check with you about something." Morgan looked up at the sound of her soft, plotting voice. "I made a new friend. Her name's Elizabeth. I'd like to invite her to have dinner with us tonight. Is that alright with you?" Robin hoped this would make him feel like he had a choice. Of course, she wouldn't call and cancel Elizabeth, but she knew how frustrating it had been as a child to not have any say in her own life.

"You remember Miss Elizabeth, don't you? We met her at Chuck E. Cheese's? She introduced you to the big mouse."

Morgan raised one hand and slowly finger spelled C-H-U-C-K-E-C-H-E-E-S-E.

"Chuck E. Cheese?" Robin asked, and he nodded. "So you do remember!" She clapped her hands together, feeling like an idiot. "Well, what do you say? Can she come over and eat dinner with us tonight?"

Morgan spelled out an O and a K. "Okay? I'll let her know." Robin smirked, but the light was gone in Morgan's eyes was gone. He pushed the bowl out of his way and took one of the comic books from Robin, flipping to the fourth page. He pointed to a red-and-blue masked superhero. "Spider-Man?" Robin finger spelled. "I like him too." She told him.

Cruz stood in the pick-up line of a small Italian restaurant, waiting for his order. It was nearing eight o'clock and their stomachs had finally demanded they actually stop and eat real food. Something more than chocolate and strawberries. Not that those hadn't been a particularly nice snack, Cruz thought, remembering all the fun those particular foods had provided. But now it was time for something a bit healthier, something that would lead to lasting energy.

If someone had told him he would be this satisfied in a woman a few months ago, he would have laughed in their face. He was a young, hot professional. He could not be tied down to one woman. But then he had met her, covering a deadline for another writer who abandoned the magazine before the story was complete. Even though they had met a few times in the past, this time there was something there, something electric. Something that had prompted Cruz to call her after the article was complete and ask her out to dinner.

Now it wasn't uncommon for him to spend the entire weekend at her place or her at his. It was starting to get serious and for once, he wasn't tempted to run to the hills because of it.

Cruz was so lost in his thoughts he didn't hear the telltale chime of the bell announcing someone entering the restaurant. He jumped a mile in the air when he heard the voice he had been avoiding all day whisper in his ear.

"I should chop you up into little pieces and feed you to my neighbor's Pitt Bull." Patrick muttered.

"Patrick I can explain..."

"Save it." Patrick ordered, slamming the base of his palm into the middle of his Cruz's chest when he spun around to face him.

"Look I know you're pissed."

"You've seen me pissed." Patrick argued.

"Okay, then I know you're homicidal right now."

"I think we should talk outside...away from these witnesses." Patrick suggested, grabbing his friend by the collar of his black jacket.

Cruz dug his heels in. Going outside was death. "Listen man I shouldn't have done it, but I was desperate."

"Stop giving me these lame-ass excuses! I just want to know one thing." Patrick sneered.

"What?"

"Would you rather be wrapped in paper or plastic after I run you over with my car?"

"What about a nice burlap? It's more eco-friendly of you." Patrick didn't laugh. He didn't even crack a smile. When in doubt, appeal to the man's ego. "I needed the best. Even if I couldn't afford you." Cruz continued. "I knew if I told you the details that you wouldn't do it, but you were complaining the other day about your asshole clients. I figured if you did more still-life stuff you could use that to get away from the Emily Quartermaines of the world. Croissants won't call you all over town."

"I wouldn't have made you pay me, Cruz. Friends don't bankrupt each other. At least, I thought we were friends."

"We are friends."

"What the hell did I ever do to you?"

Cruz arched his eyebrow. "Spring Break senior year ring any bells for you?"

"You knew how much I hated that woman, and you did it anyway." Patrick accused, poking his friend in the chest with his index finger.

"You left me naked on the beach with a blow-up doll!"

"At least it didn't attack you!"

Cruz tried his best to hold it back. It was suicidal, but he couldn't help it. The image was just too much. He laughed. "Rob...Robin attacked you?"

"Don't you even start with me. It took all goddamn day to get the swelling down." He showed Cruz the bump on his forehead.

God help him he was trying, but it was too much for any man. "Did she grow a foot in the past six months?"

"I am not in a good mood." Patrick warned, stepping forward so that Cruz would have to retreat.

That did the trick. "I'm sorry man. Really I am. It will never happen again."

"What did you tell her?"

"The same thing I told you...nothing."

"How'd you get her to agree then? She's not exactly the trusting type." Patrick remarked.

Cruz winked. "I keep telling you I'm good."

"Now is not the time to be cute." Patrick assured his friend. "I really should beat the shit out of you." He sounded as though he was considering it.

"Probably, but you won't."

"You're right." Patrick let go of his friend. "But I fucking should! You left with me a boozing nut."

A boozing nut? Robin wouldn't be drinking during business hours. Before Cruz could question that further, the waitress at the check out counter yelled out, "Order for Rodriguez to go."

"That's an awful lot of food, Grandma."

Cruz shrugged. "I figured I needed to eat up if I was going to have to take you on, Ali." Patrick threw his head back and laughed. "I gotta go man. Nothing worse than cold Italian. We square?"

"I'll fax you the pictures. Then, I'm out. You don't me anything but your soul."

"Well good since I promised your cousin my first-born."

"Why would I want a kid that looks like you?"

"Wish you could be that handsome."

"Have you been drinking?"

Cruz pointed to the knot on Patrick's forehead. "You really want to go there with me?"

"There's something--is that strawberry on your shirt there?"

"Okay now you've been drinking."

"I can understand why you wouldn't want Lucky to know about this mystery woman, but why not me? I think you owe me that much."

"If there was a mystery woman, why wouldn't I want Lucky to know about her?"

"He can't keep a secret to save his life."

"Says the one who's blown every surprise party his mom ever tried to throw him"

"Cold Italian is death. Get out of here. Stay away from Robin Scorpio."

"Of course. I don't want to be the next person she assaults." Cruz grabbed his food and ran for the door. That was close, too close.

The cold air hit Patrick in the face as he followed a few feet behind.