I suppose you can have your update since you're so wonderful!

"I have to go up to New Jersey for a few days." Patrick told Robin as she lay on his chest, her hand resting over his heart. He watched her smile dim a little and her eyelids lift in confusion.

"What's in New Jersey?" Robin asked, sitting up on her left elbow.

"A new client." He answered, sliding his hands through her silky honey strands.

"How many days?" She pressed on, lowering her head to his shoulder.

"Two. Three at the most." He explained, rubbing little circles over her lower back.

"Since when do you go out of state for a client?" She inquired in a low voice.

"I'm trying to remind myself why I got into this business in the first place, and I've about tapped out New York." He reasoned, reaching behind the couch pillow for his t-shirt. Robin followed suit and threw on her own shirt, fumbling with the buttons as she hurried her fingers along.

"Then you should do it." She agreed enthusiastically even though the idea of him being gone that long made her stomach do somersaults. How much time had they spent apart already, and here he was, taking off? It's for work, her mind rationalized.

"Hey." Patrick pulled himself into a sitting position and traced his index finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him. "This is a great chance for you to polish up on your phone sex skills."

"Is that right?" Robin was barely able to keep from rolling her eyes at his suggestion.

"Yes. I'll be calling you every night, asking crude things, checking on you. You know, all those things a boyfriend is supposed to do." Patrick clarified with a small chuckle.

Robin couldn't help but smile. "I guess you want me to come by and check the mail for you?"

"Yeah, but don't do anything crazy like climb up in my bed without me." Patrick advised with a mocking finger wave.

"I wouldn't dream of it." Robin promised with a small nod of her head.

"Funny. In my dreams, you're always in my bed." Patrick told her.

"Well, yes, in your dreams." Robin teased, touching her lips to his in a smoldering kiss.

Robin let herself into Patrick's apartment, feeling giddy at the feel of the key in her right palm, at the prospect of one day having one of her own. It wasn't the safest thing to consider what with the kind of man Patrick was and the kind of woman she strived to be. These facts didn't do anything to deter the careless thinking so she decided to let her imagination run away with her. She had never really paid that much attention the apartment's décor or lack thereof. Everything matched, she mused. Of course, what didn't match with black? The couch needed throw pillows. The living room needed color. The walls were boring and neutral. How could he call himself a photographer and live in such a secluded looking studio? Where were the abstract pictures from artists he admired? Why were the walls covered in dozens and dozens of NASCAR drivers? He was an enigma this one.

"Stop snooping." Robin said aloud, trying to steer herself back out the door. She was only supposed to collect the mail. He didn't have any plants to water. There was no reason for her to be inside the actual apartment. She had the mailbox key in her other pocket.

"Then why did he give me a key? He must have known that I would come inside." Robin argued with herself.

Why didn't he have any plants anyway? He was not as dull as his living room and she thanked God for it. She made her way quickly to the kitchen, not to pry, but because he had never let her see it. The one time he had cooked her dinner, he had managed to keep her away from the kitchen by distracting her with Morgan. He thought he was so clever. As she took in the pots, pans, and bare countertops, Robin couldn't figure out why he had been so adamant about her staying out of his kitchen. She had at least been expecting some kind of Playboy calendar. Curious, she opened the refrigerator and saw that he was in desperate need of some groceries. The only items left were a half dozen case of beer and a block of cheddar cheese. Shaking her head, she closed the door and turned toward the cabinets, opening them hastily in case something unexpected was waiting for her. They were empty. No plates, bowls, or glasses. The silverware drawer was empty too. What the hell?

"What the hell was he doing in here? How did he cook anything?" She asked, again talking to herself. Who cares? It's not like anyone was going to catch her. You need to get out of here and you know it, a little voice spoke up. "In a minute." Robin insisted, glancing up the stairs. She knew that bedroom had seen a lot in its time. She couldn't help but wonder what it looked like. Any time it got serious between them, they were either on his couch or at her loft. When he got back here, she was going to know that room from top to bottom. It seemed ridiculous that she had paid such little attention to the apartment as a whole. She wouldn't tell Patrick any of this. No need to inflate that oversized ego.

"Hello?" Robin's head snapped up when someone greeted her. From where she stood, she couldn't see the uninvited guest, but she knew the tone was definitely feminine. Part of her wanted to stay silent for a long time and see how much the woman blubbered out. Logic pushed her toward the end of the kitchen even as she cursed it. She needed to stop assuming the worst. She wasn't being possessive, but the fact was simple: Patrick was hers.

Still, she didn't have to speak up just yet. Let whoever had stopped by to greet her boyfriend say whatever it was she wanted so Robin could figure out what exactly she was dealing with here. She wasn't illogical. Patrick's career choice meant that the company he kept was mostly female. She bet that had something to do with why he had gotten into it in the first place. Quit it Robin, the little voice scolded. Well, what is she doing here, and when Patrick is out of town? Wouldn't his clients know when he was or wasn't at his studio? This wasn't a client. This was personal. What other reason was there?

"Patrick, are you here?" Patrick? So this woman was on a first-name basis with him? It was the way she said his name that made Robin's blood boil. What was the matter with her? She had never been the jealous type…well not to this extreme. She was practically stalking her prey at this point. Patrick would get such a kick out of this. He'll get a kick alright, Robin told herself, if this turns out to be anything more than a misunderstanding.

"Can I help you with something?" Robin offered, sneaking up on the five foot eight inch blonde and causing her to leap into the air. Good, she thought. Be afraid. Be very afraid. "I sure didn't mean to scare you." She lied, extending her hand toward the woman, not feeling even slightly intimidated by her height, "I'm Robin. I'm assuming you're looking for Patrick." She didn't go on to say that he was her boyfriend, because she wanted to see just how much information she could extract first. You trust Patrick, don't you, her mind screamed at her. Sure I do, Robin answered. I'm just sowing up some of his wild oats for him. I'm being considerate.

"I live across the hall. My name is Greta." She introduced herself, taking Robin's hand and shaking it fiercely.

Robin watched the woman bounce from one foot to the other and she tried to rein in her impatience a little. Greta, if that was her real name, was not all that unattractive. In fact, she was kind of Patrick's type with her short blonde hair, trim waist, and giant fake breasts. Okay, so they might have been real. Robin doubted it though. She doubted it because she didn't want to think that this woman had something to brag about.

"Anyways, I was just dropping by to see if maybe I could catch Patrick--" Greta began sweetly.

"As you can see, he isn't here." Robin informed her, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I can see that, yes." Greta replied unnecessarily. "I wanted to bring him a little present." She gestured toward the grocery bag she had brought over and set on the floor by the front door.

"I'll be sure to give it to him." Robin promised tightly.

"I'd rather give it to him myself. It's kind of a little joke we share." Greta countered with a stupid little wave of her hand. Robin wanted to break her wrist.

"What is it?" Robin was already moving around Greta before she felt a hand on her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. If you become a murderer, your mother will lose the election. She couldn't hide the sneer that was settling into her features. Why did she think it was okay to touch her? Uncle Mac can't get you out of this one. Alexis can't keep you out of prison.

"A carton of orange juice." Greta explained with a giggle, bending down to unwrap the present and show it off. Orange juice? Did she want to know? Yes, of course she wanted to know. God help that man, if this was some kind of sexual joke that she didn't understand, he would get to talk to her answering machine tonight and every night after it.

"The refrigerator is in there." Robin told her, knowing it wouldn't be living in there once this little twit left. No way was her boyfriend accepting gifts from strange neighbors, especially female neighbors.

Greta moved toward the kitchen and placed the new carton among the bottles of beer as comfortable as a roommate. Robin felt like a stranger and she didn't like it. How many times had Greta been over here? Enough to think she could just walk in unannounced. "I really didn't mean to bother you, but the door was open…" Greta said in an apologetic tone.

Liar! Robin wanted to shout. She had closed the door behind her. Greta was now breaking and entering. She wondered if she had a strong enough case. "It's not a problem. I'll be sure to tell Patrick you stopped by when he gets home."

"I'm guessing you'll be here until then?" Greta assumed in a disapproving voice. What will happen to Morgan if his mother becomes a murderer? Think about that. Focus on your son.

"I'll be here some days." Robin answered vaguely. Let her drop on by again. Maybe the lights would be out that night and she could say she had thought Greta was a burglar. Don't mess with this Scorpio you big-breasted bimbo, Robin silently warned her.

"Okay." Greta grabbed the empty grocery bag and stepped out into the hallway. "See you l--" Robin slammed the door in her face. She hoped that was subtle enough.

It felt a little bizarre shopping for Christmas crafts at the end of August, but that was when Dede's Crafts held the teacher appreciation sale and Elizabeth never had been one to pass up on a deal. She pushed her cart through the aisle, pausing to weigh the consequences of buying more finger-paint. Yes the kids loved it but the clean up was almost always more hassle than it was worth.

"Elizabeth? Is that you?" The voice of Laura Spencer was anything but threatening but it still struck fear in Elizabeth's heart. Which was ridiculous since Laura had been nothing but nice to her since the moment they met. Dropping the paints in her cart, Elizabeth turned around to find Laura standing at the other end of the aisle, smiling at her.

"Hi Laura. How are you?"

Laura moved closer, laughing. "I'm very happy to see you didn't decide to permanently harm my son."

Elizabeth couldn't help the laugh that escaped her. "Well it was seriously considered."

"I would expect nothing less. He deserved it." Laura had to admire the younger woman. Of the few women Lucky had allowed her to meet, she could count on her hand the ones that would have made him work to forgive them. Even less that he would have actually worked to earn the forgiveness. It had been refreshing to see.

Noticing the assortment of wedding related decorations in Laura's basket, Elizabeth felt a momentary stab of panic. Surely Laura wouldn't have been thinking about that, would she? It wasn't a secret that Laura had been making plans, to Lucky's eternal embarrassment. But actually buying supplies? Would she go that far? She couldn't. Could she? As casually as she could manage it, she pointed to the decorations. "Helping Bobbie with a wedding?"

She had tried to hide it well, but Laura caught the quiver of nerves in Elizabeth's voice. Never having been one to resist a tease, she shrugged. "Not at the moment but it never hurts to be prepared. Especially when there is such a good sale going on."

She felt herself pale. The earth could open up and swallow her whole right now. "Well I do love a good sale." Elizabeth managed to squeak out.

The poor girl looked as if she had seen a ghost. She couldn't keep this up or Lucky really would have a reason to be mad when he found out about this one. "Relax Elizabeth. I'm helping Bobbie throw an anniversary party for Lucas and Dillon."

Relief rushed through her, starting at her head and heading straight for her toes. A blush threatened to erupt all over her face and Elizabeth did her best to hide her face with her hand. "Okay that wasn't embarrassing at all."

"Don't worry about it. I meant nothing of it. My son accuses me of over planning his life, but I swear I do let him make his own decisions." Laura paused as a thought occurred to her. "Of course if you wish to insinuate the opposite the next time he makes a mistake, feel free to mention this incident to him."

"Now that has intriguing possibilities." Elizabeth laughed.

"Shopping for supplies?"

"Yeah. I like to stock up early and hopefully make what I have last throughout the school year. It's yet to work, but I keep on trying."

In the corner of the basket, Laura spotted a small wooden model train set. She had considered buying it several times herself for Cameron. Smiling, she pointed to the item. "That looks a bit small to last in a classroom. A present for Cameron?"

"I remembered he always liked to play with the cars so I thought he'd like it." It was a bribe. An all out bribe. Lucky could talk all he wanted that Cameron did not hate her, but she knew when she was getting the cold shoulder. Right now she was in Antarctica.

"He'll love it. How has he been taking the news?" Sometimes she could shake her husband. He had walked into the living room and announced that Lucky had made up with his "lady love" and would be back that night without even noticing Cameron sitting on the couch. When the three year old had questioned him about what he meant, Luke had offered up, "Ask your father," and run up the stairs.

"Quietly." Cameron had kept up his talking only as long as Morgan, Lance, or Kristina was near them. The second it had been just the three of them, he had gone silent. The first hour of their trip to Buffalo had been more talkative.

"If you ever wonder where Lucky gets his talent for sticking his foot in his mouth, look no further than his father." Laura shook her head. "Just give him time. He'll come around."

"That's what Lucky keeps telling me."

"And I'm agreeing with him so you know this time he may actually be right." Laura placed her hand on Elizabeth's shoulder and squeezed gently. "It's weird for him too you know. I have every confidence you'll figure out this spot and move on." And if they did, it wouldn't hurt to hold onto these decorations, purely on a just in case basis, Laura thought.

He wished he hadn't lied to Robin, but he didn't want her here with him right now. She would be around for plenty else, and he wanted to spare her as much pain as possible. Sure, he played it cool, and had from the get go, but it was all a lie. What if all he had worked so hard for would be nothing more than a distant memory when this was all over?

He didn't want to make her deal with it. She had enough on her plate. She had more than enough to worry about without him adding his own fears and insecurities to the load. Her life was starting to calm down a little and he wanted her to have that kind of security. No, this was his deal. She would disagree. God, she would never shut up about how she was responsible for what had happened to him even though he had been the one to make the decision in the first place.

Patrick wondered if anyone actually knew how much he hated hospitals. It wasn't the blood and needles that bothered him so much; it was the atmosphere. Noah had been a dedicated surgeon, but the end result hadn't been a convincing enough reason for Patrick to follow in his footsteps. It was Mattie's passion for art and photography that steered her son toward his chosen profession and, as much as he complained, he really did love it. He loved when the clients went home, when he was alone. He longed for the quiet.

He had told her that he was going to New Jersey for a new client and, more importantly, to rediscover himself. He wished that was why he was actually away from her right now. How much would she hate him if she knew where he really was right now? Still in New York. Still in Port Charles. At General Hospital. Waiting to get some blood work done so he could check on his progress. Wait to see if he had contracted HIV, or worse, AIDS. One would eventually lead to the other no matter how much he wanted to close his eyes and wish it all away. It would happen to one or both of them. Robin had been a survivor for seven years now, but this disease was quiet and deadly. There wouldn't be much warning. She would get sick and then they'd know.

Tears weren't welcome here, but he felt them threatening at the corner of his eyes anyway. His emotions cared little for his need to keep his pride intact. He shouldn't be thinking this way, not before he knew for certain that he was HIV positive. He couldn't help it though. He couldn't help but worry that he was sick. He had had himself checked out when he first came down with that fever a few weeks previous, but he hadn't mentioned it to Robin. She thought he had been convinced with her diagnosis that there was nothing to worry about. Okay, so those hadn't been her words exactly, but he had heard what he wanted to hear.

How am I ever going to tell her? Before or after she kicks your ass for lying in the first place? I don't want to hurt her. You don't want to face this. I'm here, aren't I? Just because you're scared. Of course I'm scared. Patrick dropped his head in his hands, cursing himself for keeping this all inside. He hadn't let it sink in before, but he had no control any longer. His fears had been ignored too long and they were getting their revenge. He could see the tremor in his hands; he could hear the quickening of his shallow breath. He wanted to yell, to hit someone, to throw something, but he was at a loss where to start. It was a good thing Robin wasn't here. She wouldn't have understood his anger.

A small part of him said that she would understand better than anyone because she had been through it, was still going through it, but Patrick had already made up his mind. He would include her when the time came. Until then, it was his cross to bear. He would lose it here, but, once he was back in her presence, in the presence of his family and friends, he would be cool, calm, and unaffected Patrick Drake. It was a personality he had long since perfected. It was so easy to slip on the mask, he sometimes worried he was losing himself. At least, for now, he could come back. Robin was his trigger. He wondered if she knew that. Probably not. And he wasn't going to tell her. That'd make him way more vulnerable than he ever wanted to appear in front of her.

He didn't care how much of a coward it made him; he wished his mother was sitting here with him. She would hold his hand and remind him of better times. He needed that reassurance, needed to hear that everything was going to be okay. Most of all, he needed it to be December so that there would be no more guessing. He knew he'd have to monitor himself after that, but he wanted to know. He had to know.

"Mr. Drake?" Nurse Lee's steady voice brought him back to reality.

"Yes." She must have recognized him from the last time he had been in. Of course. She was the only one besides Robin who knew he had been exposed.

"Can you come on back?" Nurse Lee held out a hand for him, but he walked past her. That shriveling mess in the waiting room wasn't him anymore. He could do this.

Patrick paid little attention to the room around him. White, sterile walls. Neutral floor tiles. Metal exam table. He always felt cold when the nurse brushed over his skin with a cotton swab but something was different today. The chill went all the way through him and he was thankful she hadn't been holding the needle at the time.

"How are you feeling?" She asked in a cheery voice that said she could have cared less.

"I can't complain." Patrick answered in a clipped tone.

"What brings you in today?" She inquired as she took the needle off of the counter.

"Nothing in particular. I want to check my status." Patrick informed her.

"Have you been taking your meds?" She wanted to know.

"Yes. Like clockwork." Patrick assured her.

"Any nausea or dizziness?"

"Not since I last came to see you."

"Good. That's good." She smiled. The needle pierced through his skin and he blew out a long breath, the tip of the needle inflicting an incredible amount of pain. It had never bothered him before. What wasn't she telling him? Had something changed?

"All done." Nurse Lee told him, showing him the blood she had just extracted as if she expected him to give her a sticker or something. Congratulations, you vampire, he thought morosely. He was going home. He had had enough of this. He'd tell Robin something. It didn't much matter; he just wanted to see her. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and hold her, wanted to feel her heart beating in time with his. He wanted to be anywhere but here. "Your results should be back in a few weeks--"

"Could you put a rush on them please?" Patrick insisted, meeting her surprised stare with one of fear.

"Any particular reason?"

"Other than the obvious? No. I just want to be sure."

"Consider it done." She promised.