Robin had been on hold for the past fifteen minutes and she was about this close to wringing a few necks at Port Charles General. What kind of pediatrician put a concerned parent on hold?! Was that even allowed? Morgan lay completely still, his eyes drowsy as he watched her. She had found that, as long as she didn't talk, she could at least appear in control. She didn't want to worry her son. He was feeling miserable as it was. Elizabeth would have known what to do, but she hadn't answered one of the hundred times Robin had phoned her. She was probably busy with Lucky and Robin wanted to cry at the thought. The one time she really needed her friend and her phone was probably turned to silent.

She glanced over at the thermometer and re-read the three digits: one hundred and two. She had called her mother, but voicemails were the new automated receptionists these days, and she hadn't been able to reach her either. So here she was, on the phone with a woman who had spent thousands and thousands of dollars putting herself through medical school for the sole purpose of putting her patient's mothers on hold.

"You shouldn't grind your teeth, Robin." Morgan whispered, catching her gaze. They had tried to break the fever with a cold bath, a hot bath, and a million other little lies Robin had overheard in the past. Nothing had worked.

"Miss Scorpio?" Dr. Veronica Bedford's voice finally flooded through the receiver.

"Yes. I'm still here." Robin made sure her voice conveyed both hostility and frustration for being treated like a second-rate citizen when her child's health was at risk.

"The best thing to do is wait the fever out. It should break on its own." Dr. Bedford assured her.

"What if it doesn't? He came down with this fever two hours ago!" Robin hadn't meant to shout. The fact that this woman had a medical degree should have made her feel more secure in trusting the advice she was getting, but it didn't.

"A fever in itself is the body's way of fighting off illnesses. If it doesn't break in the next two days--"

"Two days?!" Robin shrieked.

"Miss Scorpio, if you'll just calm down…"

"I will not calm down." Robin argued, taking the phone into the other room with her. "You're telling me there's nothing I can do for him?"

"Some parents find it helpful to rub their children down with alcohol, but, as I said before, it really isn't necessary."

"How can it not be necessary? He's suffering!"

"The therapy you'd be inflicting on him would be just as uncomfortable."

Robin bit the inside of her cheek. She had been referred to Dr. Bedford and she was the best pediatrician in the state. It'd be best not to resort to name-calling. "I didn't mean to overreact." Though I felt completely justified, she said to herself.

"It happens. I want you to call me if you have anymore questions." Dr. Bedford suggested, her tone saying the complete opposite.

"Thank you for your help." Robin hung up the phone and sunk down into the couch, letting her body slide over the cushions and drop onto the floor. She needed a minute to collect herself and then she could face Morgan. Tears fell shamelessly down her cheeks and she fought off the wave of hiccups that followed soon after. She had to get a hold of herself. Morgan couldn't see her like this. She fisted her hands, stabbing her nails into tender flesh. She brought both hands to her mouth and let out a muffled cry, her eyes stinging from the excessive tears.

"Robin, are you in there?" Robin released her fists and covered her eyes with her hands, peeking through them. She had never considered herself a paranoid person, but she still found herself reaching for a fire poker. This was still New York and her apartment was located on The City and Port Charles' border. Where was the damn bodyguard when she needed her?

"Who's there?" Robin demanded, tiptoeing toward the door.

"Patrick."

Patrick heard something hit the floor--metal maybe--and then the door was flung open and he was met with a very distraught-looking Robin Scorpio. She was dressed in a faded pair of blue jeans and a petal-pink camisole, her hair tied back in a haphazard ponytail. "Babe, what's the matter?"

Robin tried to remind herself why she was mad at him, tried to recall why she had avoided him as long as she had, but she couldn't. She should have backed away when he jumped over the threshold and pulled her into his arms, but she felt immobile. Her legs gave out under her and she sunk into him. His left hand reached under the back of her knees and he used his hold on her to sweep her into his arms and carry her into the apartment. She buried her face in his neck and clung to him, not caring how much this would end up costing her later on.

"Robin, look at me." Patrick cajoled, tracing his index finger down her cheek.

"I'm being ridiculous." Robin whimpered, staring down at the floor.

"Why are you crying?" Patrick insisted, settling them onto the couch so that she would have no choice but to meet his concerned stare.

"I'm not." Robin lied her voice strained and pitiful.

"Good to know. I wouldn't want you going soft on me, Scorpio." Patrick teased, brushing his lips across her forehead.

"Morgan's upstairs." Robin remembered, struggling to get out of Patrick's lap. "I have to get to him."

"Hush." Patrick whispered, folding his arms around her tiny frame. "I'll go and check on him if you promise to stay here."

"I won't." Robin shook her head.

"Then neither of us are moving from this spot." Patrick decided.

"But he's sick--" Robin went on.

"What's wrong with him?" Patrick wondered.

"He's got a hundred-and-two temperature." Robin explained.

"Then let me check on him." Patrick persisted, running his left hand through her cinnamon strands.

"Alright." Robin bobbed her head and got to her feet shakily. She fell into a nearby chair.

Ten minutes later, Patrick returned with a sleeping Morgan in his arms.

"What took you so long?" Robin wanted to know.

"I was teaching him Poker." Patrick answered with a cunning smile.

"Poker? You were teaching my six-year-old Poker?" Robin asked incredulously.

"You'd prefer I started him off with something he'd never use like Old Maid?" Patrick assumed, placing a few pillows behind Morgan's dark head. "Have you called the doctor?"

"Of course, but she was no help. She said we had to wait it out." Robin grimaced, folding her arms over the arm of the couch and settling her chin in-between them.

"Then wait it out we will." Patrick decided, reaching for Robin's hands and pulling her to her feet.

"You're staying?" Robin couldn't help but sound surprised.

"I'm staying." Patrick agreed, taking her spot and then yanking her into his arms.

"This is like the smallest piece of furniture I own. It could prove to be very uncomfortable." Robin warned linking her fingers with Patrick's as if it was a common thing.

"We're going to need movies." Patrick responded instead, peering across the living room where he expected to see a large shelf dedicated to entertainment.

"I don't have any action movies--" Robin began.

"No action movies?" Patrick looked pained. "What do you have?"

"Every version of Pride and Prejudice ever made." Robin answered, smiling at Patrick's bewilderment.

"As long as it's not Little Women. Never in my life has a movie bothered me to such proportions."

Robin smiled warmly as she gazed up at Patrick's tired face. They had gotten through all of the Pride and Prejudice movies, Say Anything (John Cusack's level of awesomeness was about the only thing they could agree on), The Notebook (He had almost stormed out of the apartment at what he called "an unfair ending"), and then turned the TV off and sat saying nothing for over an hour. It was amazing how pleasant silence could be. She hadn't known she could enjoy a moment like this with a man like Patrick Drake and she cursed herself for constantly cutting him down just because his brother was a soulless bastard. "You're pretty incredible, you know that?"

"I keep telling you." Patrick turned away and let out a yawn, stretching his arms above his head. The way the blue cotton shirt clung to his shoulders, rippled chest, and abdomen made Robin visibly gulp. She had already guessed that he worked out when they had run into each other at the pool, but she decided then and there that she needed to be sure. Tracing her fingers over each and every contour, Robin softly gnawed on her lip as her eyes took in every detail. Her fingers fisted and she pressed them against his skin as she slid the shirt up inch by inch. Curious, she dropped a kiss to his stomach and listened to Patrick suck in a breath.

Patrick's barely tugged on her ponytail and her head tilted backwards. He kept the kiss soft and careful, his tongue flicking over her lips in a non-possessive way. Flattening his palms into her back, he pressed his left knee into the cushion, pushing her onto her back. Her knees shot up around his waist and she braced her hand over his chest, his heart pounding against her palm. Her mouth fell open on a moan, "Mmm, you taste like chocolate."

"I snuck some cake on the way over." Patrick admitted, knocking the straps of her camisole off her right shoulder and lowering his lips to her skin. Robin breath caught and held when he filled his hand with one covered breast, the other skidding down her waist and curving around the inside of her left thigh.

"And just what do you think you're going to do with those hands?" Robin asked, shivering when Patrick applied the slightest bit of her pressure to her skin.

"Well, I can tell you, or I can show you." Patrick suggested, pinching the nipple into a tight little point.

"Oh…God." Robin whimpered, unconsciously lifting off of the couch to give him easier access. She wanted Patrick closer, but the chair wouldn't allow it. If they moved around too much, they would be on the floor and…well that wouldn't be the worst thing. A faint voice reminded her that her son was sleeping less than ten feet away.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Patrick prodded, capturing Robin's bottom lip in his teeth and biting into the vulnerable flesh.

"P-Patrick," Robin slid her tongue over the roof of his mouth, coaxing him into another kiss. She was barely aware of his free hand sliding in-between her legs until she felt a wicked finger grind against her center. She started to cry out, but Patrick smothered the sound with his mouth.

"Shh." He fondled her breast in his other hand, splintering her sensations. "You don't want to disturb Morgan."

"W-wait." Robin pleaded.

"You don't want me to touch you?" Patrick challenged, moving his hand to her other breast.

"No, that's not it at all." Robin explained, forcing her eyes to stay open. "B-but not here."

"Here?" Patrick inquired, stroking her softly between the legs.

"I'm serious." Robin bit out.

"I know." Patrick sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I guess going upstairs is out of the question."

"Does it help to know that I'm really, really tempted to give in?" Robin wondered sheepishly.

"No. That does not help." Patrick grumbled, bracing his hands on either side of her waist.

"I understand if you don't want to stay…" Robin stated, adjusting the straps of her camisole.

"You don't give me too much credit, do you?" Patrick muttered.

"No, I guess I don't." Robin glanced down at her hands.

"What do you want?" Patrick asked, lifting Robin's chin with the pad of his thumb.

"Stay." Robin replied.

"How's the newspaper business treating you son?" Jeremy Detwiller, a second or third cousin of some sort, slapped Cruz on the back hard, causing him to almost drop the beer he had been nursing all over Laura's freshly scrubbed deck. Catching himself just in time to prevent disaster, Cruz forced himself to smile pleasantly at the other man.

"It's the magazine business actually." He tried not to clench his teeth when he talked but somehow he always got cornered by this man and he always asked the same questions.

"My mistake. The way Laura brags on you, you'd think I could keep it straight." Jeremy laughed heartily at his own lame joke.

With only half his mind paying attention to him at all, Cruz laughed right along with him. He had this conversation at least a dozen times with Jeremy before. He wouldn't notice at all if Cruz was on autopilot the entire time. And by looking over his shoulder, there was a wonderful view.

A clear, unobstructed view of Bobbie.

The entire party she had floated in and out of his eyesight. Being the birthday girl, she was understandably in high demand. Out of town relatives wanted updates on all the kids, the grandkids and the business. And her love life. He had been close enough to overhear a few innocent questions about if she was seeing anyone. And had seen her merely laugh and change the subject.

Under normal circumstances, her laugh delighted him. He had once devoted an entire Saturday afternoon to making her laugh. But today it had kicked him in the gut. It had been irrational to hope that she would at least allude to being in a relationship. He hadn't fully realized how much he had hoped for it until he heard that laugh.

Admitting to Patrick and Lucky he was even in a relationship had been a leap of faith. He knew his friends. Eventually, Patrick would either get Robin to talk to him or his attention would be distracted elsewhere. At some point Lucky would come out of this happy fog Elizabeth had him in. Sooner or later, they were going to stop pretending to be satisfied with his half answers. Or one of them would mention it to Laura, and she had never taken no for an answer.

Sipping his beer slowly, Cruz found himself staring at Bobbie, as she talked with Elizabeth across the lawn. He wanted to leave this boring ass and hug her, kiss her on the lips and at the end of the night leave with her. But he couldn't. He had to maintain this facade of being just a distant family friend to her. The lying. The sneaking around. The constant denials. It had been fun at first; he could even admit it had been part of the attraction to dating her. But now? He was in deeper than he had ever imagined he would be. And it was all slowly killing him.

He had to talk to her, make her understand. Patrick and Lucky would be pissed off, but eventually they would get over it. Luke and Laura would eventually come around. Lucas had always said he just wanted Bobbie happy. Initially Lulu would be crushed, but she was young, she would survive to love again. The reactions just couldn't be as bad as they had imagined them to be.

The fact that Jeremy had left and he was standing there staring hadn't even registered with him. His first inclination something had changed was feeling Lucky's hand on his shoulder.

"What's so fascinating man? I was calling your name for a good ten minutes?"

Cruz shook himself out of his reverie. "Nothing man. I was just talking to Jeremy and you know how he is."

Rolling his eyes sympathetically, Lucky shook his head. "I saw him cornering you. I tried to get here but Cameron got scared by Aunt Chrissie."

"It's all good."

Catching sight of Bobbie and Elizabeth for the first time, Lucky smiled. "So I saw you talking with Elizabeth earlier."

Cruz tried to stifle his laugh. Was he this obvious about wanting to know what his friends thought about the girls he brought around them? God he hoped not. "Yeah. I think I'm going to have to steal her away from you man."

"Like she'd go."

"Like I'd give her a choice."

Cruz smirked. "Actually man I like her a lot. You done good brother."

"She is pretty special isn't she?"

Cruz found himself focusing yet again on Bobbie as she threw her head back and laughed. He had to talk to her and soon.

"Yeah she is." He responded, never taking his eyes off of Bobbie. "She most certainly is."