BTW, the last scene was inspired by an Elizabeth/Luke scene that happened right after her rape.
It had been hours since she had left the hospital, but Elizabeth realized she might as well still be sitting there. Physically she had gotten onto the elevator, pressed the button, gotten into her car, and driven over to Lucky's house at his insistence. Mentally? She was still sitting next to Robin's hospital bed as her friend insisted nothing was wrong and they were all making a big deal out of nothing.
Tucking her knees under her chin, Elizabeth adjusted herself on the window seat. She hadn't checked her messages at school until lunch and it was only by sheer luck she had managed not to drop her phone into the garbage can. The other three-year-old teacher Rosario Lopez had rushed over, apparently convinced that she was about to faint. It was probably close to the truth considering Ms. Ostencraft hadn't put up too much of an argument about her leaving right then and there. By the sheer grace of God she had managed to drive herself to the loft, pick out something for Robin to wear, and make it to the hospital without causing injury to herself or anyone else.
What was it about hospital beds that made everyone look so small? Cameron had seemed tiny in his and Robin looked well younger than her twenty-four years. Her dark hair had hung in a lackluster fashion down her back. Although she had plastered on a smile when Elizabeth ran into the room, Elizabeth was no fool. It was fake. The mischievous spark she normally associated with her friend's eyes was dead. A cold vacant stare stood in their place. Robin wasn't looking at anyone, she was looking past them.
"Hey." Lucky whispered softly, nudging her shoulder with the back of his hand. "Here drink this."
Over her shoulder, he handed her a steaming mug. Taking it carefully with both hands, she blew on the contents to cool it. She hadn't bothered to turn on the lights, so her glance into the dark liquid was rather pointless. She had no idea what she was about to drink. "What is it?"
"My mom swears hot chocolate can cure anything." Lucky shrugged. "Dad always thinks it needs a little shot of brandy to make that a reality. I figured you could use it."
Even though he couldn't see it, his small joke did earn him a tired smile. Taking a cautious sip, Elizabeth leaned against his chest. As she felt the soothing liquid work its way through her system, she rested her head on his shoulder as he rubbed her side with his free hand. "I'm worried about her."
"I know." Lucky dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "I am too." Worry didn't begin to cover how he felt for Robin. Worry was just the tip of the iceberg. He was angry anything so vile should touch Robin and ashamed that someone in his own family would have something to do with it. Her lack of response and insistence that nothing was wrong was scaring him more than anything. The last time Robin insisted everything was fine was when her parents dropped her off on Mac's doorstep and went to pursue their own ambitions. Robin was a fighter. Robin didn't shy away from proclaiming loudly what was wrong. The person he saw in the hospital room today was not Robin. And judging by the look on Patrick's face, his cousin no more believed her protestations of being fine any more than he or Elizabeth did.
"She looked so small. So alone." Elizabeth took another sip to guard against the chill that was coming from her memories. "I don't know what to do."
Lucky pulled her closer, secretly glad she was there and healthy enough for him to hold. If anything remotely close to that had happened to her? He couldn't fathom it. Max had cheated on her and he wanted to run him over repeatedly with a four-wheeler. But this? He didn't know if he would be strong enough to handle it. Looking up at the sky for guidance, Lucky sent up a quick prayer that Patrick would be able to find the strength somewhere. Robin was going to need him more than anyone. "Robin is not alone. She has Patrick, you, me, Courtney, Mac, Alexis, Bobbie, and more people in this town that she probably wants to help her."
"What do I do? I want to help her but if she doesn't admit anything's wrong how can I?"
Elizabeth was well familiar with Robin's power of denial. It was one thing to deny falling in love with Patrick, but this? There was no amount of joking and teasing that would make this admission easier.
"You'll find a way." Lucky dropped another kiss into her hair. "You'll find a way."
Cruz had walked around the hospital for nearly two hours before returning to Bobbie's room, finding it vacant. His first thought had been panic, but Monica had found him that instant and explained that his girlfriend had checked herself out, saying she felt fine. Since there hadn't been any medical reason to keep her, there had been no way to keep her from doing so. He had tried not to let it upset it but it had...it still did. Almost four hours later it still pissed him off. She hadn't waited for him to take her home, further proving that she was living under the assumption that she was better off without him.
Patrick and Lucky had already started tackling the baby's crib even though there were six months before they would be bringing her home. He didn't care what Bobbie said; they were having a little girl. He couldn't imagine anything more beautiful than a little dark eyed girl with long, thick red curls bouncing around her dimpled cheeks.
He rubbed his hand over his face in pure exhaustion and tried to figure out what his next step should be. He didn't want to think that Bobbie would be so cruel as to keep him from their child after it was born, but he might need to have a talk with Alexis to discuss his legal rights just in case. It'd be best not to tell Bobbie because he still had every intention of making it work with her.
His future started to play out in his mind's eye and he didn't like what he saw. Bobbie would be standing on the porch to wave to him as he drove up to pick up his child for visit number whatever wearing a sheer nightgown that she wore for the new man in her life, a husband Cruz bet. This man would be around her age, much more mature than he, and his kid would call him Daddy.
"Did you just space out on me there? I was asking about the reception." Dillon repeated his brows in furrow as he took in the bedraggled man to his right. Lucas had taken Lance to the park so there was little chance of his husband coming home in time to catch them talking. Lucas was coming around but it was a gradual transition.
"What reception?" Cruz asked stupidly. He didn't remember why he had stopped by, how he ended up at his girlfriend's son's house but he had literally run out of options. Patrick and Lucky were still freezing him out though there had been some progress. He had actually made an attempt, reaching out to both of them, but their phones had been off so he had assumed it was for the best.
"You're not going to have a reception?" Dillon put his left hand to his chest in shock, openly mocking the stereotype. "I don't know if I can be a part of this if there isn't going to be a reception."
"Aren't we getting ahead of ourselves just a little bit?" Cruz replied after a moment's pause. "She hasn't even said yes yet." Unless the younger man brought it up, he wasn't going to mention that, while he hadn't gotten a yes, he had gotten shot down immediately following his proposal.
"I guess you're right. Okay, first things first: you need to practice the proposal to make sure you get it right. Perfection is the key." Dillon schooled him using his practical tone.
"Maybe this is a bad idea." Cruz backpedaled, closing his hands over his eyes. He didn't want to relive the most embarrassing moment of his entire adult life. The woman he was having a child with was so disgusted at the idea of being his wife that she actually considered being a single mother as a step-up from the alternative. "I don't want her to feel like she has to marry me." And he didn't. His proposal, if it could be called that, had been botched up, he could admit that, but that didn't make it any less sincere. Almost losing her and the baby had sped up the timetable in which he had set his life, but his question hadn't been a last resort either.
"Are you kidding? You guys are totally Shrek and Fiona!" Dillon shot up to his feet to further emphasize his point.
"What? Shrek and Fiona? That's the best you can come up with?" Cruz challenged, his eyes turning black in his lame attempt to control his temper. Dillon was only trying to make him feel better about the situation. He wondered if his and Bobbie's life choices would always be referred to as The Situation.
"What do you want? You're no Prince Charming." Dillon retorted with an eye-roll.
"Thank you for sparing my pride." Cruz bit off sarcastically.
"Pride is Love's archenemy. You need to be careful or it'll just be you and your cats." Dillon mused thoughtfully.
"My cats? Why do I get the feeling that's not a sexual reference?" Cruz treaded carefully.
"Maybe because I was actually talking about you and your cats you old woman." Dillon teased good-naturedly. "Let's start with flowers. Flowers are easy." He redirected, trying to get back to the issue at hand.
"Bobbie's allergic to almost every kind of flower. Except roses. Are roses corny?" Cruz wanted to know.
"Yes, but somehow you make corny work." Dillon gave him a look that said he was clearly lost in what made corny "adorable" but had enough sense not to question his mother-in-law's taste in boyfriends.
"I should have had flowers." Cruz muttered to himself. Even in the movies, the guy always had flowers. Or a ring. He hadn't had either. While part of him wanted her to pick out the ring herself, he wanted to surprise her even more. He wanted her to know that she was special, that he had taken extra care with how he approached the idea of marriage. "I proposed to her last night." Now that he was saying it aloud, he couldn't believe his prior anger. Bobbie had been completely justified in turning him down. He had told her they were getting married instead of asking.
"You did WHAT?" Dillon took his seat and plunged his smooth, manicured fingernails through his spiky blonde hair.
"I was so grateful that she was okay--" Cruz began.
"So that's why you made a laughing stock of all my fine work?" Dillon accused impatiently. "I can't believe you're still standing. How do I not know about this?"
"Because she said no." Cruz explained solemnly.
"I don't blame her. I would have too." Dillon nodded his head sagely.
"And just what does that mean?" Cruz shot back.
"Your timing could use some definite work. The flowers are going to have to wait. We've got bigger issues." Dillon realized with startling clarity.
Robin woke to the sound of a doorknob being turned slowly. Sitting up, she focused her wide brown cinnamon eyes on the front door to the loft. She had only been asleep for ten minutes, if that, but her body showed no signs of needing more as she lifted up on her knees and clenched her fingers into tight fists. Her socked feet dangled over the couch and she blew a loose strand of dark hair out of her eyes. The color had started to fade over a course of the previous week and she hadn't made any attempt to stop it. She rather preferred this color despite the fact that the deep color made her face look extra pale. This afternoon was a fluke in that she hadn't been able to catch even a second of sleep since Logan showed up unannounced. Patrick wanted her to talk about it, pressed for details of all things every time they were alone, but she remained close-mouthed about it which always resulted in infuriating him further. What did he expect her to do? She didn't want to relive that night and no amount of coaxing from him was going to change that. It'd be best to forget the entire thing.
She tried to clear her throat to alert her presence to whomever had decided to drop by unexpectedly but her voice was as soft as it had been that night, soft and useless. Patrick had told her that she had never called for him, at least not in a way that he could hear her. If she hadn't knocked over the lamp, he never would have known anything was wrong. It was happening all over again, she thought angrily as she stared hard at the spinning doorknob. She knew the door was locked so it didn't take a genius to figure out that the person in the hall was trying to pick her lock. It didn't seem to matter that her body wanted to fight, her mind was in control and it was driven by her own irrational fears. Backing into the couch until her back was braced against the cushions she covered her eyes with her open palms and peeked through them.
"Why am I always alone?" She whimpered to no one in particular. Patrick had gone to the police station and then he was going to stop by to pick her up, understanding that she was still uncomfortable sleeping in the bed where so much had happened. The couch had been a welcome substitute until now. Until she could hear someone breaking in. Until she could see for herself that she was no more safe in the daylight than she had been in the dead of night. One hand moved to cup her mouth to quiet the trembling cry that built and built in the back of her throat and the other reached out to pick up the phone. She had no idea if she could remember the right number to call, or even if she had that kind of time, but just holding the receiver made her feel a little better.
"Luv? Are you home?" Anna Scorpio called to her a moment before throwing the door open. She wasn't sure what she had expected to find when she let herself into the crowded flat but the sight of her daughter curled up in a little ball on the couch clenching the telephone had been at the bottom of her mental list. "Robin, are you alright darling?" Anna kept her steps as light as her voice, recognizing what could only be described as blind fear cloud her daughter's beautiful brown eyes.
"Mom." Robin croaked out, scrambling to her feet and catching her mother's slender waist in her unyielding arms. "I'm so glad you're here."
"Robin, what's happened?" Anna stroked a soft hand through her only child's thick hair, bunching up the ends in-between her thumb and forefinger. She slid her arms under Robin's and held her just as tightly, understanding that her daughter needed the comfort she had longed for as a small child.
Robin wanted to explain, to tell her mother everything. She wanted to fall asleep to her mother's soft, soothing accent while her back was rubbed or her hair was brushed. It was amazing how much she craved her mother's touch when she had shied away from everyone else's since the incident.
"I'm sorry." Robin spoke at last, backing out Anna's arms and swatting at the tears staining her bright red cheeks. "Would you like to sit down?"
"Robin, you don't have to be so brave all the time. I don't mind holding you if that's what you need—" Anna assured her in a no-nonsense voice she had become known for.
"I'm fine, really. I was just…shocked to see you. That's all." Anna watched her daughter easily slip back into her protective shield, noticed the walls shooting up around her.
"How about I make some hot tea and you can tell me what's bothering you." Anna insisted, making a beeline for the kitchen.
"No." Robin caught her arm, the mere tug keeping her mother's feet planted. "I can do it."
"Of course you can. I was just trying to help…" Anna's voice trailed off when she was met with the stubborn Scorpio stare.
"I don't need any help." Robin bit back, hating how cruel she sounded. "I'm sick to death of everyone trying to help. If there was something any of you could do, I'd surely let you. However, you can't change the past."
"Change the past? Robin, I must admit, I'm in the dark." Anna promised unrelentingly.
"You expect me to believe that Uncle Mac didn't call you and tell you everything?" Robin screamed.
"Mac? I haven't spoken with him since the car accident. What happened Luv?" Anna resorted to her daughter's childhood nickname, one that she had been called herself, to try and appease her.
"You haven't?" Robin rested her back against the doorway of the kitchen and closed her eyes. "I'd rather not talk about it."
"I'd rather be a foot taller. Any other unreasonable requests?" Anna teased her tone not the least patronizing.
"I can't say I wish Logan had never come to Port Charles all those years ago, because then I never would have met Patrick." Robin began her first instinct to cut and run. She had yet to open her eyes.
"What has Logan done?" Anna demanded impatiently despite the fact that she would wait forever if she could just get her daughter to trust her again. What had severed it so quickly and with such finality?
"He stalked me up until last week." Robin explained, barely able to say the words without choking on her own fear. It wasn't as if he could hear her from a jail cell, but she still forced her eyes open in case he had snuck in behind her mother. The door was still ajar. It wasn't unfounded to worry he could get in undetected.
"What happened last week?" Anna broached the subject carefully.
"I don't want to—I can't." Robin whispered, bending in half when a coughing fit took hold of her unprepared body.
Anna closed the space between them and yanked her into her arms, murmuring soothing words of French to her baby and rocking her gently. "Okay, you don't have to tell me. I'm pretty sure I can guess." One phone call, she told herself. That was all it would take to kill that rat bastard son of a bitch in his sleep. Or maybe she would make the trip herself and smother him with a pillow. A knife would be the best; she wouldn't even be bothered by the mess. Though it would send her daughter into tremendous panic, she had killed plenty of people in her time, men, women, and even a little girl who could have easily passed for Robin's twin. She wasn't proud of her past, but it was times like this when she was grateful that she had acquired such skills.
"He didn't rape me." Robin had expected the words to be more difficult but, somehow, her mother's presence made her feel as though she was hidden beneath an invisible cloak. "He tried, but I didn't let him." She hated the way her voice broke when so many other women in the exact same situation hadn't been able to get away like she had. There was no reason for her to be this terrified when she had escaped. He hadn't been able to accomplish what he had planned on doing, but the terror he had hoped to inflict…there he had succeeded.
"You are my brave little girl." Anna nodded letting out a breath at what she supposed was tormented relief.
"Mother, please. Please stop it." Robin begged, burying her face into her Anna's shoulder and sinking into her protective embrace.
Patrick watched the scene play out in front of him unable to say or do anything to disturb it. He had been caught unaware by the open door, but now he knew Robin was safe. She clung to her mother desperately and his heart broke at the sound of her muffled sobs. As much as he had hoped she would break for him, he could now say, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was thankful she had let her mother comfort her. He could admit he was way out of his league when it came to keeping Robin safe—he had more than proved that with his lack of action when Logan had stumbled in through her bedroom window—and that, for the first time since meeting her, he was overjoyed to see Anna Scorpio.