Chapter 14

I crossed the ocean for a heart of gold.

Patrick stood over the scrub sink, eyes closed and methodically washing his hands. As the soap built up on his hands, he blocked all extraneous noise from his head and visualized the surgery he was about to perform. While not a particularly difficult procedure from a technical standpoint there was always a risk any time he had to put his hands inside someone's head. Over the course of their relationship Robin had pushed him to improve...or more like develop...a bedside manner and he had made a considerable effort on that front but when it came to the patient on the table he didn't want their name or the story of their life. There were other people in the OR who would look after the patient's comfort, his only concern was their brain.

Having seen the whole procedure in his mind's eye, he opened his eyes, flicked off the tap with his elbows and inhaled sharply before walking in to the OR. Despite the emotional night he had spent with Robin, he found himself feeling strangely energized. He had admitted something that had been threatening to break through the surface for months - that he was in love with her - and while her initial reaction had been disappointing he forced himself not to walk out and was not only rewarded with her own admission of love but also by seeing some of her well constructed walls come down. As the nurse covered his hands with gloves, he smirked slightly behind his mask. Everyone had always teased him that when he finally fell, he would fall hard and he did. It was just that no one ever told him the landing would be so soft.

As the opening strains of 'Badlands' by Bruce Springsteen floated through the operating theatre, Patrick called for the drill and got to work. His path to neurosurgery had seemed an obvious one - he was following in the footsteps fo the great Noah Drake - and while that was partially true, he also lived for the challenge. Every thing was so small and intricate inside the brain and in order to be great you had to be calm, patient and driven by a need to win. Though an arrogant playboy outside the OR, every evaluation he had ever had from medical school through his residency praised the ice water coursing through his veins.

Three hours into the procedure and he bent and flexed his knees, rolling through his feet to keep the blood circulating. He could feel the home stretch looming and while it was never truly over until the last stitch was sewn, his confidence was growing. Epiphany Johnson, his favourite surgical nurse, reached up to mop his brow. She was unfailingly tough but fair and he could count on her like no one else in his OR. As he began the final row of stitches to repair the graft to the artery, a tremor moved quickly through his left hand making his fingers numb. There was a shocked silence as the instrument clanged to the floor, landing at his feet. Patrick blinked several times looking first at the dropped needle and then to his hand. He clenched his hand into a fist to steady it but when he reopened it, it continued to shake.

Epiphany saw the panic flash through his eyes as he stared, dumbfounded, at his hand. It was unusual to see Dr. Drake inert but he seemed truly shaken and she felt she needed to step in for both the patient and his reputation. "Dr. Drake - perhaps it's time you stopped hogging all the spotlight and let some of these fine residents we have close for you? They are never going to learn just by staring at your handsome face."

He locked eyes with her for a moment, grateful for her intervention. "Nurse Johnson" he said, picking up on her tone, "you really should look to have that bossy gene removed. It's so unbecoming in one so pretty."

Epiphany rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "Your charm may work on Dr. Scorpio but trust me when I tell you I'm immune to it. Now are you going to let someone else be the hero or are we just going to continue to worship at your feet?"

Giving her a small wink, he stepped back from the patient. "Ramirez, come finish up."

The young resident moved quickly to the head of the table and called for a new needle. Patrick folded his arms across his chest, covering his still shaky hand from view and watched as his protege finished the surgery. Epiphany stepped from the table and stood beside him.

"Care to tell me about it?" she asked in a quiet whisper.

"It's just a cramp" he said, his eyes still glued on the patient.

"Uh-huh, and I'm just a supermodel waiting to be discovered. Dr. Drake, it's not my business..."

"You're right" he said quietly, turning towards her.

"It's not my business yet" she continued, "but if you don't have that looked at and this happens again I will have no choice but to report you to Alan."

"I'm fine" he growled. The surgery done, he stalked from the OR to complete his post-op notes. Ripping his gown from his body, he hurled it into the bin and glared at his hand, furious at its betrayal. In all of his years, even as his colleagues suffered from sore backs, carpal tunnel, bad shoulders and crinky necks, his body had always done everything he had asked of it. It had never even occurred to him that there would be some physical challenge that he could not deal with.

Frustration continued to build as he walked back to his office and it was hard to say who got the greater surprise as he kicked open the door and tossed the chart clear across the room.

"Uh-oh - did the patient die?"

Jumping, Patrick spun around, surprised to find Robin sitting on a plaid wool blanket on the floor of his office with a picnic basket by her side. All the frustration and anger evaporated as he smiled at her. "Robin" he said softly. All thoughts and worries of trembling hands were suddenly forgotten.

"Did I come at a bad time?"

Dragging his hands through his hair, he shook his head as he crossed the room towards her. Plopping down beside her, he cupped the side of her face and kissed her tenderly. "Never. You could never come at a bad time. How are you feeling?" he asked cautiously, searching her eyes for the truth.

Robin smiled brightly. "Not great but better than yesterday. But stop deflecting - what happened in your surgery?"

"Nothing" he demurred. "Stupid residents bug me, that's all. So what's all this?" he asked, motioning to the basket.

They had shared a quick goodbye kiss before he left for the hospital and while he had encouraged her to go back to sleep, she found her bed to be too big and cold without him in it. She still felt a level of embarassment at her ungracious reaction to his declaration of love and wanted to do something special for him. Reaching into the very back of her closet, she retreived the picnic basket that Brenda had given her in Paris and began to fill it. Swallowing thickly, Robin nervously chewed on her bottom lip.

"I thought I'd bring you some lunch - I know how famished you get after a big surgery."

"That's not the only time I get famished" he purred, waggling his eyebrows.

Rolling her eyes, Robin beamed at him. "The most amazing thing happened to me yesterday" she said as she pulled open the flaps on the basket.

"Oh?" Patrick queried, rolling his neck to relieve the tension.

"Someone told me they loved me."

"Wow" he grinned, "that must be one handsome, thoughtful, amazing man to tell you that."

"Lord, does your ego need continual stroking?"

"My ego...my..."

"STOP!" she laughed, raising her hands.

"I like your laugh" he said softly, moving towards her.

"I haven't done a lot of it lately, I know it hasn't been easy for you."

He shook his head. "Robin - it's not easy for you" he clarified, "and all I want to do is help you, if you'll let me."

Crawling over to him, Robin positioned herself in his lap, draping her arm over his shoulder. "I'm not very good at letting people help me" she admitted quietly, "but I'm going to try. I uh...I called a few of those support groups from the pamphlets you brought over."

"Oh?"

"And uh...I'm still not sure that I'm going to go but I know...I know I can't do nothing and so I'm going to talk to Lainey and get her advice."

Unexpectedly overcome, Patrick felt his bottom lip quiver as he pressed his lips against hers. "I am so proud of you" he whispered.

Robin rested her head on his shoulder, curling her fingers through the wisps of hair at the base of his neck. "One of the reasons I came back to Port Charles was because even though I'd left for Paris wanting to escape my past, I realized my future was here."

"Jason?"

With a crooked grin, she nodded. "Yeah. I thought maybe Tony Jones' phone call was the call to get my whole life back on track and so I came. I wanted to save him but I also wanted to see if we had a chance of making it."

Small pangs of jealousy stabbed at him and he took several small, silent breaths to push them away. "Did I ruin it for you?"

Robin's eyes widened in shock. "Ruin it? Ruin it for me? Patrick - I knew within about half an hour of seeing Jason that he and I had no future together and truthfully, I didn't want one with him. Jason was an outsider and in many ways I was too and I just thought...I just thought..."

"What?" he asked, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"I just thought it would be nice to belong again. I knew leaving Paris that I was coming home to find love but in my wildest dreams I could never have imagined finding someone as special as you. I don't feel like an outsider, I don't feel alone - for the first time in...in years...I feel like I can stand still and the ground isn't going crumble underneath me." She pressed her lips against his neck, just over his pulse point, feeling the strong, steady rhythm of his heart. "I love you Patrick."