Patrick opened the refrigerator to search for even the slightest drop of orange juice, finding cranberry juice instead. Shrugging his shoulders in acceptance, he took a glass from the cabinet and filled it to the rim, drinking it all in one gulp. He couldn't stop thinking about all that had happened tonight nor could he block out the fear in his best friend's voice when Monica had even broached the subject of Aunt Bobbie going into premature labor. Maybe Robin was right. Maybe he just needed to accept it and move on. He had learned firsthand that holding a grudge was about as pointless as talking to a wall. If he hadn't swallowed his pride and looked beyond the narrow scope of his own life, he never would have gotten to be with Robin, never would have realized how special she was. Things had worked out how they were supposed to, he figured.
He shut the door to the refrigerator and moved toward the sink to wash out his glass when the tiny hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stood to attention. A moment later, he heard the shattering of a lamp coming from upstairs. He didn't have to wonder whose room it was, nor did he have time to rationalize his next step. Dropping the glass into the sink, barely registering that it too had broken into a million little pieces, he ran for the stairs, taking them three at a time, almost stumbling until he finally had to grab a hold of the railing and yank himself up.
Nothing had prepared him for what he saw upon entering Robin's bedroom. The lights were still out, but the moonlight bounced off of the sheer curtains illuminating the room enough for him to make sense of what was going on…as if any of it could make sense to him. He flipped on the overhead light and saw that Robin's eyes were closed. He couldn't tell if she was breathing or not. Rushing over to the bed, he yanked the mask off of the burglar's head and came face-to-face with his unconscious little brother. Cupping his hand over his mouth in shock—or was it disgust?—his eyes suddenly shot to Robin. He didn't stop to check his brother's pulse or listen for his breathing. Robin's face was stark white and he wasn't able to focus on anything but her. Pushing Logan onto the floor—the long, trim body making a loud bang as it collided with the hardwood floor—he pulled Robin into his arms, and tilted her head backwards to see if maybe she would open her eyes.
"Come on, Robin. Breathe, damn it." Patrick ordered, his big hands cradling her face and trying to get her neck to support her head, but she was far too weak. "Come on baby. I'm right here. I'm right here." He repeated over and over into the thick mass of dark hair, his other arm wrapping around her so that he could shake her carefully. "Robin, I need you to open your eyes. Open them please. Look at me! Look at me, Robin!" He heard Courtney enter the room, but he paid her even less attention than he had his own brother, running his hand up and down Robin's back, trying to let his words and touch soothe her into returning to him. Beneath his fingertips he felt the tiniest of scratches and assumed Logan had knocked her into the headboard. She certainly hadn't been banged up when they had settled in for bed.
Courtney was speaking to him, but he couldn't understand what she was saying over the pounding in his ears. She must have been concerned but she should have been able to see that he was doing his best to revive the love of his life. It never ceased to amaze him how incredibly tiny she was compared to him. Not only was she a foot shorter than he was, she was as small as a rag doll in his shaking arms. Rocking her back and forth, he dropped his mouth to her ear and told her he loved her, all the while begging her to come back to him.
Robin coughed hoarsely, crying out at the way it burned her excruciatingly sore throat. Her body jumped in his arms and she tried immediately to sit up—he had laid her down beside him—but he was too strong and she felt the tears building when she realized that she hadn't really gotten away, that she was still in danger. She wanted to fight him for all she was worth, but her energy was gone. He was going to kill her now. She just knew it. Her eyes started to grow heavy and sting from the fountain of tears, but his voice brought her back each time she tried to shut the world out. She blinked frantically and Patrick's face came into view at last.
"There she is!" Patrick tried to tease, his fingers trembling when he brushed her wet bangs off of her face. She was still deathly pale and he about had himself convinced he shouldn't touch her at all, but he didn't know how to assess the damage otherwise. She folded her body into his strong arms and let her head find the spot on his shoulder he reserved especially for her. As he shifted them into a sitting position, she yielded to his every movement making certain that she wouldn't fall out of his embrace. "There's my girl." She couldn't stop the spasms from seizing her frail body and throwing her into a fit of trembles. He gathered her closer, apologizing, and she let her eyes close again.
"No, I need you to stay awake. Can you do that for me please?" Patrick demanded though his tone never changed. "Courtney, can you call the police?" Robin continued to shake and shudder as Courtney left the room and not even Patrick's promises could make her body relax. "Robin? Robin, come on. Look at me. Focus on me."
Robin willed her eyes to not surrender to the temptation of sleep because she couldn't stand the way the very thought seemed to hurt Patrick, almost to the point of it being a physical attack. She worried she might never stop trembling, but more than that she was terrified she might have survived the attack only to die directly after it. Her fingers caught Patrick's arm and she dug her nails into his skin, certain that he would let go of her if she wasn't touching him.
"The police are here." Courtney announced her eyes clouded over with anxiety as she watched the limp way Robin lay in Patrick's arms. Robin saw the fear, knew what could happen, and she wished she had been able to tell her best friend how much she loved her or even just that she was sorry for how things had turned out.
"Yeah, alright." Patrick answered ambiguously, cradling Robin closer. What good were the police anyway? They hadn't been able to predict Logan's—Logan?—movements any better than he had and Robin had gotten caught in the crossfire. There was no doubt in Patrick's mind that his precious little Robin had been right to trust her instincts when she had reported the break-in to him.
"Patrick, they want a statement." Courtney pressed on. Her eyes were conflicted as they bounced from Robin to Patrick.
"I can't give them one. I don't know what happened." Patrick admitted bitterly, shutting his eyes against the overwhelming guilt.
"You must have some idea." Courtney concluded, walking over to where Logan lay still beside Robin's bed. "That son of a bitch, I knew he wasn't done with her." She whispered, tears filling her cold blue eyes. "And then you had to go and make her fall in love with you. You made her a target." She accused, placing a hand over her mouth.
"I don't need this right now, Courtney." Patrick sighed, lifting his eyelids and staring furiously at her. "Tell them Logan is in here. As far as a statement, all I know is he was on top of her when I came in, and he wasn't conscious." He reiterated the turn of events with a biting tone.
"Fine." Courtney conceded, disappearing down the stairs. Robin was only aware of Patrick and Courtney. Her brain simply wouldn't let her remember what she had just experienced nor would it help her make sense of how she had escaped with her life. Other women in her place hadn't been so lucky.
"If you thought I was pushy after the car accident, you had better get used to seeing my scraggly face." Patrick advised Robin with a wobbly chuckle. "I'm not leaving you alone for a second." Even as he said the words to her, he knew they were lies. He would stay with her as long as she let him, as long as each of their careers would allow, but eventually he would have to let her stand up on her own. She wouldn't have it any other way.
"Patrick." Courtney's voice interrupted his doomsday line of thinking and he let his eyes slowly settle upon hers. "Is she competent enough to make a statement?"
"What do you think Courtney?" Patrick spat brusquely. "She can barely keep her eyes open and she can't talk."
"Then it'll have to be you. I don't know what happened." Courtney insisted, folding her arms to battle her own state of mild tremors.
"I can't leave her like this!" Patrick argued, stroking his hand through Robin's hair tenderly.
"I'll stay with her. We need to get Logan out of here before he wakes up." Courtney admonished quietly. "I won't let anything happen to her." She couldn't ignore the distrust she found in his wide chocolate stare but, with it, she also discovered the unmistakable look of shame in his gaze.
He lifted Robin's chin gingerly letting her eyes find his before he attempted to speak. "I'm going downstairs for a few minutes to give the police a statement. I want you to stay here with—" She shook her head fervently, a sound escaping her thinly drawn lips that closely resembled an animal in agony. "Baby, it's okay. You're not going to be alone. Courtney is right here. I'll be right back." The words left a bitter taste in his mouth. He had already promised to "be right back" prior to her attack and he had been downstairs for what must have felt like a lifetime to her.
"Robin, I'm right here." Courtney promised, resting her hand on her best friend's wrist, careful not to touch the circle of bruises she found there. "I'm right here." As she had hoped, Robin let Patrick move her into Courtney's arms and didn't cry for him when he left the room. "This slimy bastard will get what he has coming to him, I swear to God." She vowed, pressing a kiss to Robin's cold forehead.
"Patrick, come quick!" Courtney called from the bottom of the stairs. Steering Patrick toward the stairs, she asked the bushy blonde detective to excuse them for a second.
"What's the matter?" Patrick asked in alarm, his mind creating a hundred different scenarios. He had to quit hanging out with Dillon. The kid was making him crazy.
"I can't get her to stop. I was hoping you could." Courtney answered instead, pushing him into the bedroom when she decided he wasn't going fast enough.
"Get her to stop what?" The words died on Patrick's tongue when he saw Robin crouched in the middle of the bathroom floor with a spray can of Lysol and a toothbrush. She was scraping away at the tiled floor as hard as she could, her sore hand turning purple from the exertion she was forcing upon it.
"She wanted to wash her face so I took her into the bathroom, but then she pulled all of the cleaning products out of the bottom cabinet and started scrubbing. Before I called you in, she was stripping the sheets off of the bed." Courtney made a dramatic wave of her hand to show him the mess she had made of the bed. "When I asked her what she was doing, she just kept repeating that she had to get it clean, that it needed to be clean. I'm really freaking out here, Patrick." She admitted, dropping her head in embarrassment.
"I'll take care of her." Patrick promised, bending down next to Robin and reaching for the toothbrush. "Can I have this?"
"No!" Robin shook her head and slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me!"
"These rooms are immaculate, sweetheart. Come, get off of the floor." Patrick insisted, placing his hands on either side of her waist.
"I told you not to touch me!" She reminded him with a shake of the toothbrush. "You don't understand. You can't see the filth like I can. I have to get it up. It's not safe for Morgan."
"Honey, Morgan's sleeping. Nothing in here can hurt him. You don't need to clean anything. Come on." Patrick tried again, but the second his fingers came in contact with hers, she thrashed against him and skidded backwards, falling onto her back. "Are you okay?" Patrick asked as he towered over her.
"I'll scream." Robin warned.
"There's no need to scream, Robin. I won't hurt you."
"Tha-that's what Logan said, but he did. He hurt me. He hurt me." Robin repeated over and over again until Patrick finally turned his face away. "What's the matter? You can't stand to hear it? You don't want to—to know what he did?"
"We need to get you to a hospital. Would that be alright?" Patrick suggested his voice softer than a whisper as he posed the question.
"I'm not going to the hospital." Robin argued, putting the toothbrush to the tile a second time and ignoring him.
"You need to get checked out. We'll go when you're ready though. I don't want you to be scared." Patrick told her.
"I'll never be ready to go back there. They'll try to keep me away from Morgan, and I can't just can't let that happen." Robin dismissed, her head tilted in a way that allowed her hair to cover her red face.
"No one is going to take Morgan away from you, Robin. You're his mother and everyone knows that." Patrick kept on, worried that his next word would send her into meltdown mode.
"Does Carly?" Robin challenged. "Does she know?"
"Carly's dead. Sonny left Morgan with you because he knew you would protect him and love him." Patrick reminded her.
"I didn't protect him though. I let him get hurt. I drove my car into that tree. Why did I do that, Patrick?" Robin wanted to know.
"It was an accident. There was a malfunction with the car or something. It's nothing you meant to happen."
"I don't want to go to the hospital."
"Okay." Patrick nodded. "We don't have to go right now."
"Why aren't you listening to me? I said I don't want to go!"
"You have to go, Robin."
"I am a grown woman! I will not be talked to this way!"
"Okay. Okay." Patrick agreed, cupping her face in his hands and almost smiling when she didn't fight him.
"You're not going to make me go?" Robin inquired suspiciously.
"I'm not going to make you go." Patrick assured her, pulling her closer.