Sometimes Mac worried he was just as old, or older, than his family and friends accused him of being. Maxie often made the comment that, had Alexis not come into his life, they would have put him up in a "home" and bought him a walker. She told him not to wait up for her tonight--she had been staying over a lot more these past few weeks--because she was due in court for at least a dozen cases, none of them simple, even though his little lady made everything look that way. He would never understand why she felt the need to defend scum, constantly putting the two of them on opposite sides of the law. She said it was habit, much like his forgotten pistol, but he knew better. At first, arguing had been a game between them. Now it was the quickest way to talk her out of her clothes. Life, he mused.
Robin was curled up in a purple hospital chair, her left cheek resting on her clasped hands and her hands pressed up against the wall. She looked unrealistically comfortable and, at least for now, alone. The cavalry must have decided to divide and conquer for the afternoon, but he was surprised to see that Drake had left her side. He would be the last to admit that the guy was starting to grow on him, from a distance since he hadn't actually seen or spoken to him since the birthday party, mostly through phone conversations he had with Robin, one in which she informed him that she had forgiven him and things were back to normal. How could he have known she would show up at his house unannounced and then leave less than an hour later, her words indecipherable, her hands shaking, and keys in her hand?
It had been Bobbie who called him about Cameron's accident. Mac couldn't pretend that he was a stranger to the Spencers. At one time, the town had been interwoven and, despite the partnership between Luke and Corinthos, Mac had watched Lucky and Lulu grow up with his girls. Now Lulu was in college and Lucky was a single parent to a three-year-old. Mac hadn't thought himself was strong enough to raise three girls, but as soon as Felicia handed him divorce papers, he had taken on sole responsibility for their children's welfare. She visited when she could, when she was able to put her busy life on hold and treat the girls like they mattered, but it was clear to him and, he noticed, to Maxie as well, that she lived her life without them and was happy with that decision.
Mac figured he could understand what Lucky was going through with Cameron because he had been through it twice before with Maxie and then again with Robin. While he had missed out on Maxie's early childhood, he had been there when she collapsed a few years into his and Felicia's marriage. She had been a frail child and continued to be even as she entered into adulthood. The only difference was that now he could add vindictive and manipulative to the list so that she went around getting her weak heart broken almost on a daily basis.
Robin's exposure and eventual infection to HIV had caught the old commissioner unawares. During the few months Stone and Robin had shared together, waiting, watching, and never quite accepting that he was going to die…that had been the last time his niece had seemed to need him. After losing her first love, she had jumped into a pointless relationship with a heartless killer and then, before she could even recover from that, Logan Drake had hoodwinked her and dragged her down the aisle. Everyone knew how that ended, but Mac wondered if they knew just how much she had closed herself off to love after that. Three strikes, you're out, she had told him when her divorce was final. Morgan had been her shining star in all of this, her next chance to love someone who would love her just as much for there was no love like a mother's love.
Lightly rubbing her shoulders until she roused, Mac smiled warmly at his niece. "Wake up Princess." He murmured watching his words bring a soft grin to her pale features. She had been running herself ragged and he would not have her sleeping up here when he had a giant, far from quiet, house with a room she had claimed as a teenager, a room he hadn't touched since the day she had moved out of it. The other girls often got onto him for it, whining that it had the most space, space they would surely use more efficiently, but Mac hadn't been able to let it go, hadn't been able to let her go. To him, she would always be his little girl, just as they had always been.
"Have you been here long?" Robin wanted to know, stretching and moaning as she did so. Her crimson blouse was wrinkled and it looked as though she had popped off a button or two in her plot to get some much-needed sleep. Her hair was tousled and tangled falling in front of her face like a blanket of honey.
"No. How are you holding up?" Mac figured he should ask about Lucky, as well as the rest of the Spencers, but none of them were here right now and Robin was his main concern. He took the chair to the right of her and moved her head to his shoulder, skeptical when she didn't fight to sit up. She was this tired? What was she still doing here? There was only so much she could do. Why did she have to push herself so hard? Wasn't it enough that she come to visit Cameron? Why did she feel the need to spend her mornings at the bakery and the remainder of her evenings at this hospital? What's more, except for school, she hadn't let Morgan out of her sight in the entire time Cameron had been up here, making both mother and son even more restless and worried than they would have been if they had stayed home.
"The Spencers are far worse off than I am, especially Lucky. I've never seen him so broken Uncle Mac." Robin admitted, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her right ear. She started to sit up, but Mac restrained her easily enough, letting her know that it was okay to stop for a minute, it was acceptable to take some of the strength he was offering her.
"That's not what I asked, is it?" Mac bet she could hear the wryness in his tone because she started to laugh. Or at least it had been intended as a laugh. It had come out as a hoarse, choking sound. She had had to sit up and put her hand over her mouth to muffle the sound. Not a second later, she was fine again, completely composed.
"A little tired. Nothing I'm not used to. I'm just trying to help out where I'm needed." She explained in a soft, almost inaudible tone. Who was she expecting to disturb? The three nurses that occupied the front desk? The comatose three-year-old down the hall?
"Maybe you're trying a little too hard. You need sleep--"
"If I needed sleep, I'd be sleeping." Robin cut him off.
"You were sleeping when I showed up." Mac reminded effortlessly.
"I was resting my eyes." She argued glancing down at her fingernails and wondering, When was the last time I had these done? It had to be when she was in Manhattan with Patrick. Why did it matter? Why did her mind have to stray to such a random thought?
"Where's Patrick?" Mac would never get used to calling the guy by his first name, but just the crack at it made Robin's face relax a little.
"Vending machine I think. Or he might have gone by his apartment to pick up some work. I don't remember." She realized frowning slightly.
"And you're just supposed to wait here--?" Mac accused gruffly.
"I choose to be here. I'm not being coerced by anyone. He's already been all over me about being here too much. Now you're doing the same thing. Last time I checked, I was an adult." Robin pointed out impatiently.
"You're not taking care of yourself." Mac revisited logic deciding it best not to think that he had something in common with Patrick Drake.
"I'm sleeping when I can. I still have a life to live…and I'm handling everything pretty good on my own I think." Robin told him defiantly.
"But you're not alone, Robin. You don't have to take on all of this by yourself." Mac countered shortly.
"This isn't my tragedy, Uncle Mac. It's not Morgan in that hospital bed: it's Cameron. I love both boys, but I'm not Cameron's mother. I'm not the one struggling. If you're really that worried, why don't you go have a talk with Lucky?" Robin just about shouted at him, her fingers gripping either side of her seat.
"You say you won't go home and sleep. What about Morgan? Is he getting enough sleep?" Watching his niece's eyes go blank at his implied allegation, he went on. "He has to get up just as you do to go to school. Are you making sure he's getting enough rest?"
"Of course I am." Robin snapped. "He's with Lucas getting some snacks right now and last night he was at Bobbie's. He's not being deprived of anything except playtime with his baby cousin, let me assure you."
"I'm not trying to fight with you." Mac assured her.
"You'll forgive me if I have a hard time believing that." Robin rolled her eyes, trying to diffuse some of the tension between them, not sure where it had even come from.
"What if I take Morgan to the house with me and the girls tonight? It won't be such a drive from here, or from work. I want to help. I'm here to help." Mac insisted, taking her hands in his and squeezing them carefully.
"I'm sorry I yelled at you." Robin apologized profusely, her head ducking slightly.
"Got to rile you up once in a while to prove you're still a Scorpio, that's all." Mac teased, lifting her chin with his thumb so that she was staring back at him.
"I guess it'd be all right…Morgan staying with you tonight. Unless it's an inconvenience." Robin stammered.
"It's fine sweetheart. I just have one condition." Mac replied.
"What's that?" Robin asked curiously.
"I want you to get at least a full night's sleep from now on. If you need clearance to use one of the spare rooms, call me. I'll take care of you." Mac kissed her forehead.
"You always have." Robin nodded.
"Hey Sport. You been asleep long?" Noah Drake asked placing his hand atop his eldest son's left shoulder. It was just the two of them, Patrick realized with startling clarity, as he moved to sit up. He had lost his tie hours ago, but his gray suit was wrinkled and two of the buttons had come undone in his effort to steal a moment of sleep for himself.
The nurses had changed shifts again; Patrick knew this because he didn't recognize any of the staff as they made their way from one hospital room to the next. Noah had always told him that he should try to learn their names because they had known him all his life; he was practically a rock star when it came to the nursing staff. Patrick had had no interest in learning any of their names, or how they liked to spend their time, or anything else; they were all way too old for him. He wanted to be home with his friends; he had reached level fifteen and he'd be damned if that was as high as he ever got.
"I wasn't asleep." Patrick snapped letting his father know how unhappy he was to be here. Why did Logan get to stay home and he had be here? There was only a year's difference between them; it wasn't like either needed a babysitter. Why couldn't their father see that? All his father ever did was brag about his skills in the O.R. as if his boys gave a flying fig about his accomplishments. If it weren't for this last-minute surgery that apparently only his father could do, if Noah hadn't been so damn insistent on them spending time together, Patrick would have been at home right now. As it stood, snow covered the highway and his father had explained that there simply wasn't time to take him home. Why couldn't Mom just pick him up? Patrick had wondered. She isn't feeling well, Noah had explained. She's never feeling well. Maybe you should focus on your own wife and not a bunch of strangers, Patrick had angrily replied with folded arms and a raised chin.
"My mistake. I brought you some hot chocolate." Noah offered the paper cup to his son not that surprised when he waved away the peace offering. "You're being a little selfish, Sport."
"Stop calling me that." Patrick grumbled in a warning tone. "I'm not a little kid anymore Dad. Am I really that insignificant to you that you can't see that I'm growing up?"
"Your words," Noah responded, hurt. He took the seat next to Patrick though his son's narrowed eyes told him that that might have been the wrong thing to do. "What is it that's got you so worked up?"
"Like you care." Patrick reached into his coat pocket and extracted a handful of sunflower seeds, popping a few into his mouth and smacking loudly just because he knew how much it drove Noah crazy.
"I do care." Noah insisted, trying to make a grab for the bag. "Be sure to spit out the seeds in a trashcan, Spor-Patrick." He corrected himself.
"Whatever." Patrick responded with an eye roll.
"It's important to keep the hospital clean." Noah stressed.
"Isn't that what janitors are for?" Patrick reasoned in a sardonic voice.
"Try as I may, I don't know how to make you care about someone other than yourself." Noah mumbled shaking his head in obvious dismay.
"Not like you're much of an example." Patrick replied bitingly.
"I ought to smack you upside the head for a comment like that." Noah said through gritted teeth.
"Touch me and I'll have your ass thrown in jail for child abuse." Patrick grinned evilly.
"Where'd you get that mouth of yours? Certainly not from me…or your mother." Noah figured.
"Would you like me to teach you some of the other words I've picked up?" Patrick asked lifting a challenging eyebrow.
Noah's beeper demanded attention from the belt loop of his black slacks. "I'll be back. I've got to go." He explained getting to his feet.
"I'll try not to get on the news while you're gone. Take your time. It's not like I have an education or anything for you to worry about." Patrick growled at him, shaking his head at his father choosing to ignore him. "Bastard." He whispered to himself waiting a beat before standing up and scoping out the hallway nearest him.
The walls were utilitarian white. The floors were yellowing in age despite the administration's attempt to cover up the cracks with fresh white tile. He ever worked in a hospital it wasn't going to look like this. Work in a hospital? Right, because he wanted to save lives. He had to laugh quietly at the implication. Less people out there, the more important he became. Or, on the flipside, fewer guys out there meant more girls for him to sleep with. He wondered how Noah would take to knowing that that by the time he had the belated sex talk with his sons both had been sexually active for almost two years. He would be sixteen soon and he had almost reached the dozen mark. Just like the video games he played, he smiled. Each required something different and he made sure to provide for them.
Don't get it, Patrick mused as he peeked into the windows of each room he passed. What was so glorious about being a doctor? Noah, more often than not, came home in a bad mood, complaining about this, that, or the other. His father didn't like following the rules any more than he did. It was almost an admirable thing Patrick felt for his father, almost. His mother played it up like his father was important, taking on the cases that no one else wanted. Logan had been fooled, but not Patrick. Noah took those cases so that he could have an excuse to not be home with his family. This was totally fine with Patrick. He got a better collection of friends with the 'Daddy doesn't love me. Let's try and piss him off' attitude he gave out. The guys could relate; the girls wanted to make him feel better.
A nurse startled him when she emerged from the room a few feet away from him. Patrick could see tears in her eyes. He'd never met a nurse that wasn't touch as nails, so what was this woman's problem? She was dressed in the normal blue scrubs outfit with white sneakers, her blonde hair tucked behind her ears. Having not noticed him though it seemed unthinkable, she dropped to her knees and sat beside the door she had just come from, her arms around her knees as she rocked back and forth. The floor was pretty empty so the odds of anyone catching her were unlikely. If he made his presence known, he would spook her. Of course, it wasn't like he could leave her there, crying and such…damn it was she really crying? Why did women always cry and why did he always have to be there to witness it?
"My name's Patrick. Can I help you?" Patrick wasn't sure why he felt compelled to befriend this stranger. For all he knew, she was nuts. She could have a scalpel in the breast pocket of her scrubs, ready and willing to use it on the next male she saw, no matter their age.
"I'm Cindy. It's nice to meet you, Patrick." She offered her small manicured hand and he took it eagerly, again unaware of the driving force behind his intentions. She was pretty, he noticed. Her hair was a little disheveled; she'd been here all night from the look of her smeared make-up and trembling hands.
"You all right? Do you need a doctor?" Since when was he intimidated by an attractive woman? He was always the one to say the right thing, do the wrong thing. Something was off today. Damn it, he wished he was at home, away from crying Cindy, away from this hospital, away from his father!
"Have one in your pocket, do you?" She teased, touching the tip of his nose with her index finger once he released her hand. He hadn't known he was still grasping it until she silently coughed and pulled her hand out of his hold.
"My dad." Patrick explained sheepishly.
"Bet he taught you everything you know." Cindy assumed. She was cute, but obviously naïve. The only life lesson Noah had ever taught him was how not to turn out just like him.
"I guess. Hey, you want some hot chocolate?" Patrick steered away from the dangerous suggestion in her voice and offered her one of his own. He remembered that Noah had left the cup for him and it wasn't like he had taken a drink of it. If she had a problem with it, he'd get her another one.
"I could go for something a little stronger." Cindy whispered but Patrick heard her anyway.
"Can you drink when you're on-duty?" Patrick felt like a narc.
"Would you tell on little old me?" Cindy wanted to know.
"Depends on what you did for me." Patrick bargained.
"What did you have in mind?" Cindy asked in a tone Patrick had become familiar with.
"You look like you need to get out of here." Patrick nodded toward the hospital room.
"Do I ever? I don't usually get this teary-eyed about a patient." Cindy told him.
I don't care, Patrick thought. "What's so special about this one?"
"His house caught fire and no one can identify him." Cindy clarified with a slow nod of her head.
Cool! "Can't identify him? That's terrible." And really cool! TV was always censoring the grisly and gruesome scenes in a movie. Now he was going to get the chance to see a barbequed guy! Somehow that ranked higher than what he'd been thinking of doing with Nurse Cindy. Who was to say he couldn't do both?
"I should be in there…" Cindy gave a retreating glance toward the door.
"Nah, you can take a breather." Patrick argued in a soothing voice as he rested his left hand over her right one.
"I used to work on cadavers for Christ's sake! This should not be affecting me this way." She sounded disgusted with herself. Patrick felt her softly squeeze his hand in return. What was a decade of age between friends?
"Maybe because they were already dead and he's still technically alive." Patrick mused aloud, reveling in how soft her skin was in his palm.
"That could be it. When I was a little girl, my father died in a fire." Cindy recalled sadly.
Patrick held his tongue. Gee Cindy, you think maybe this has brought up bad memories? Oh well. Attractive didn't mean genius. They were a deadly combination to begin with. "That must have been awful." He watched her rest her head in the crook of his shoulder. This close he could smell the faintest sprinkle of perfume. Her mouth was only an inch from his. He could hear her breath quickening as he caressed her hand in his.
"It was. My mother…well she was never the same after that." Cindy explained sounding as if she might just cry some more.
"But that guy's still alive. You've got to stay strong for him." Patrick moved his hand to her wrist and wrapped his fingers around it like a loose bracelet.
"I know." Cindy's voice broke as her face moved even closer to his.
"Don't be sad, Cindy." Patrick pleaded. "I'd hate for you to be sad."
"I need to just get my mind off things." Cindy decided, getting to her feet, breaking the spell.
"How do you suppose we do that?" Patrick asked hoping he was still a factor in her plans.
"You should probably get back to your dad." Cindy suggested carefully.
"Where are you going? I don't want to be alone." True enough, Patrick thought. If concerned didn't work, he'd try pathetic.
"Oh Patrick, I'm sure there are plenty of kids around here to play with." Cindy assured him patting his right shoulder as if he fell into the same category as those '"kids."
"Oh fuck off." Patrick shot back throwing open the door to the burned victim's room. The light was weak. He wasn't sure if he was imagining the smell of smoked human flesh or not. It was hard to tell. There was a sheet over the old man, almost covering his entire face. Patrick wanted to see what the fuss was all about. People got into accidents all the time. His friend, Gary, had fallen out of tree into the windshield of the family car. He had almost taken out both of his eyes but had turned his face just in time. Lucky bastard, Patrick mused.
"You shouldn't be in here, Patrick." Cindy's hand was on his shoulder a second later, but he pushed away from her. Patrick wasn't sure if it was her sudden movement or his, but suddenly there was enough light in the room to make out the guy's mutilated face. It looked like someone had gone after him with a cheese grater. Pieces of skin barely clung to the bones in his face.
"Hey, it's okay." Robin ran her small hand up and down Patrick's back until he stopped shivering. The temperature in the hospital was nowhere near cold so she assumed he was having a nightmare. She only hoped her voice acted as a lifesaver from whatever images haunted his sleep. "You're okay." She whispered against his left ear.
Patrick shot up out of the chair, away from her comforting touch, and slid a hand through his hair. Once his hand reached his neck, he felt the shivers collide with his fingertips and he had to sit down to control the chattering of his teeth.
"Hell of a bad dream, huh?" Robin guessed moving his bangs away from his face.
"I'm fine." Patrick shook his head and Robin placed a kiss on his left cheek.
"No one else is around." She told him. "You're allowed to react if you need to."
"Where are they?" Patrick demanded, his eyes appearing bloodshot even though she knew that they had gotten the same amount of sleep.
"Coffee and food run. I wanted to stay here with you and Lucky." Robin clarified.
"Where's Lucky?" Patrick asked.
"Where do you think?" Robin challenged.
Patrick didn't respond with his first thought, Oh. Instead he said, "Any change?"
"I would have woken you up if there'd been one." Robin pointed out. Noticing the terror in his eyes, she went on, "Baby, what's got you all worked up huh?" Tilting her head, she pressed another kiss to his cheek and let her warm breath wash over his frozen skin.
"It's just the hospital. I hate it." Patrick admitted quietly.
"I know." Robin's answer surprised him. "I pay attention."
"Is it that obvious?" Patrick wanted to know.
"You mean besides your insistence to avoid Cam's room like it holds the Plague? No." Robin shook her head, a smile seeping across her features. "Or the fact that you're holding onto Wolfie for dear life." She nodded toward the aforementioned stuffed animal.
"You think this is funny? It's not." Patrick retorted.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Robin inquired warily.
"No."
Robin smiled lifting her body into a straighter position. "Oh did I say that like you have a choice? Because you don't. Tell me what it is about hospitals that give you the heebie-jeebies."
Patrick sighed in resignation. "Ever read That Was Then, This is Now?"
Robin's eyebrows shot up, "S.E. Hinton, right?"
"Yeah. In the book, the main character makes the comment about cemeteries being a place to get better and hospitals a place to die." Patrick replied.
"Did I miss something?"
"That's how I view them, Robin. Every time I'm in the hospital, there's something wrong…something that can't be fixed."
"You mean like your mother?" Robin assumed.
"Yeah her…and now Cameron. If I go in there, we might as well sign a death certificate for him." Patrick declared.
"I'm so close to slapping you right now." Robin warned. "Explain yourself please."
"Bad memories, that's all." Patrick answered.
"You're going to have to do better than that." Robin insisted.
"What else can I say? People don't come here to get better…not when I'm in the picture. They come here to die. Just like my mother, just like Mr. Flemmons--"
"Who's Mr. Flemmons?" Robin interrupted.
"Burned victim. He was stable before I went and visited. Next morning, he was declared dead."
"So you're what? Cursed? Is that what you're telling me here?" Robin asked incredulously.
"It's not that. Cameron's better off without me in there. He's got Lucky…"
"He needs you too, Patrick. You helped raise him for Christ's sake. You're going to sit there and tell me that you're not as affected as Lucky, that you can really distance yourself?"
"I'm trying to protect him." Patrick shot back.
"You're trying to protect yourself." Robin corrected harshly. "I get that you have some 'bad memories' at hospitals, but this time isn't going to be like those were."
"You know that how?" Patrick patronized.
"I dropped Morgan off at Bobbie's last night and you know what he told me?" Patrick met her eyes but didn't say a word. "He told me that he's been praying for Cameron and that I should remind you to do the same thing. It's called faith, Patrick." Robin murmured.
"He's always been such a happy, lively kid. I can't look at him in that hospital bed, Robin. I just can't." Patrick stared down at his hands, smiling wanly when she linked their fingers together.
"He looks like Cameron. A few bruises. A little quieter. But the same little boy we love." Robin promised tucking her head on his shoulder and wrapping her free hand around his waist.
"How'd I get this lucky?" Patrick wondered moving to kiss the top of Robin's head.
"It was the ego. Total turn-on. I couldn't fight it." Robin joked forcing herself back, disentangling their bodies even though it absolutely killed her. "Go." She ordered pointing toward Cameron's hospital room.
"Robin--" Patrick protested.
"I can't come with you this time." Robin shook her head knowing she would fight the battle if she could. He had to do it. He had to face his own demons. She turned her face away and was able to hide the sudden tears flowing down her cheeks as he did what she wanted him to, what he had secretly wanted to do all along.