Chapter 29

I've cried me a river, I've cried me a lake, I cried till the past nearly drowned me
Tears for sad consequences, tears for mistakes
These are tears from a long time ago.

The ballroom at the MetroCourt hotel was buzzing with the glitterati of Port Charles society. The organizing committee had out done themselves with the decorations for the ball. The room looked like a winter wonderland with large topiary trees covered in tiny white lights, illuminating the space around them with a soft glow. Each chair was draped in voluminous organza covers and the crisp white tablecoths hung to the floor. A small vase of bright red gerber daisies served as the centrepiece and red ribbons were on every place setting. There were photos from previous years resting on easels scattered around the room, reminding all the guests of the number of times they had already gathered to fight against the disease and to celebrate those who were living with it. The harmonious sounds of the string quartet floated through the room, inviting all to come in and explore.

Unlike previous years there would be no local talent show this night. Instead the committee had chosen community acts from various countries to drive home the message that HIV/AIDS was a global pandemic with local impact. There was a children's choir, comprised of AIDS orphans from Soweto, South Africa; the Port Charles Ballet Theatre company had developed a piece entitled "Hope"; a group of HIV positive women from India had formed a theatre company and would present a short one act play of what their lives were like. The organizers hoped the entertainment would inspire, educate and be a call to action.

Stepping inside the room with her hand firmly inside Patrick's, Robin stopped and looked around with wide-eyed appreciation. What had started as a simple way for the community to raise money and awareness had grown into a full blown gala event drawing benefactors and supporters from near and far.

"Okay?" Patrick asked, watching her carefully.

She nodded. "You know, despite Ms. Sneed's arrogance and ignorance, she's done a beautiful job here."

Not prepared to forgive her transgressions with April Gilbert, Patrick did little more than shrug.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of navy velvet. Squeezing Patrick's hand, she looked up at him with a nervous smile. "Will you come with me over here? There is something I want to show you."

"I'd follow you anywhere," he replied throatily as she led him to one of the easels.

They stopped in front and for several beats, Patrick said nothing. He was moved by the phoenix rising above the bridge and he looked from it to Robin and smiled. "It's beautiful" he told her.

"My - my uncle Mac had it made for Stone. This is a replica that I donated to the Stone Cates wing that Sonny built. The real one is still part of the Names project."

"How do you feel seeing it again?" he asked tentatively.

Robin wrapped her arms around herself and stared at the square. It represented so many memories - some painful, some happy - but it also represented the past and for the first time she was willing to admit, out loud, that Stone was her past.

"I feel like it was a long time ago" she replied quietly. "I was a girl then - no matter how mature I tried to convince myself I was" she smirked, "I was really just a girl."

Standing behind her, he dropped a kiss on her shoulder. "I would have liked to have met that girl" he said softly.

Tipping her head up, she looked at him curiously. "How come?"

"Because I really, really like the woman she became."

Stunned at his admission, she turned into him and snaked her arms around his waist. He closed his arms around her and held her tightly; he could feel the nervous energy coursing through her.

"Robin."

At the sound of Sonny's voice, she lifted her head and smiled at her old friend. Dressed in a tuxedo with a red ribbon prominently displayed on his lapel, she was both surprised and pleased to see Stone's ring on his finger. Pulling away from Patrick's embrace, she threw her arms around him.

"You look very handsome."

"And you look devastatingly beautiful. You're a lucky man Doctor Drake" Sonny looked over at the young neurosurgeon.

"Very lucky," Patrick agreed.

Sonny held Robin's hand in his own as he looked at the framed quilt square. He opened his mouth to speak but was too overcome to say anything. Robin squeezed his hand.

"I know" she told him softly. "It's hard to believe it's been so long."

"And look at how far you've come." His tone was a mixture of wonder and affection.

Further conversation was halted with the arrival of Ms. Sneed. "Doctor Drake, Mister Corinthos" she greeted nervously. "Doctor Scorpio, are you ready?"

Inhaling sharply, Robin looked from Sonny to Patrick. "As...as ready as I'm ever going to be."

Leaning in, Sonny bussed her cheek. "You will be brilliant because you are. Good luck."

Patrick cupped her face, tenderly and softly kissing her lips. "I'll be right there with you the whole way" he whispered.

"I love you" she replied before heading towards the stage.

As Robin stood in front of the podium, she took several small, steadying breaths.

A quick scan of the room left her feeling enveloped in love and support. Sonny was leaning forward in his chair, the picture of nervous intensity. He had never really cared what people thought about him but in this room it mattered to him - it mattered that people understood despite his lifestyle choices, he had lost someone too. Glancing over to the side she gave a small smile to her colleagues who worked side by side with her every day and never once flinched away or hesitated. They made her feel as normal as anyone could. At another table she could see her friends from her support group - a show of force that nearly took her breath away. The centre table was host to the senior staff of the hospital and many of the benefactors. Noah winked at her and her smile broadened. Her boyfriend's father had accepted her without question and while for many that may seem like a no-brainer, it was often the exception, not the rule when you were HIV positive.

Her heart fluttered even before she found him, almost as if it had recognized him before she had. Patrick was at table near the front with his surgical team including Elizabethe and Emily. Leaning back in his chair, the picture of casual cool, he gave her a small nod and a warm smile.

Reaching for the glass of water on the corner of the podium, she took a small sip before beginning.

"It has been more than 25 years since the first case of AIDS was documented in North America. In the intervening years we, as a society, have covered the spectrum in our reaction and understanding of the disease. We believed at first that HIV was a virus that could only be contracted by homosexuals, or that it was a punishment from God for lacivious behaviour. People were afraid to kiss, hug or even shake hands with someone who had AIDS. As we knew more, our reactions changed - tolerance and compassion crept in and steadily replaced hate and fear. And now we have arrived at a place where, for the most part, HIV and AIDS are just another disease in a long list of those plaguing mankind.

It has become common place to boil the disease down to a citation of statistics. I could tell you that in more than 25 years there have almost 60 million people infected with HIV around the world. I could tell you that HIV has become very much a woman's disease - in many countries women are six times more likely to be infected than men. I could tell you that there are more than 6,000 people who contract HIV every day. Every day. I could tell you about the destruction of families wrought by AIDS and how more than 13 million children around the world have been orphaned because of it.

Or, I could simply tell you my story. Many of you in this room, " she smiled at the many friends gathered, "already know the basics. I contracted HIV when I was 17 years old. My boyfriend and I felt we were making an informed decision at that time when we chose to forego using a condom. We were wrong. And it is a decision I will spend the rest of my life paying for."

Her hand trembled slightly as she reached for the water glass. The truth - the whole truth - had a habit of being liberating and scary all at the same time.

"When I was diagnosed, there was no cocktail, there was no range of drugs and HIV was very much a death sentence. I had planned to attend university - I had wanted to be a doctor - but instead I was preparing to die. I had just done the hardest thing I have ever had to do - I watched as someone I loved died, my boyfriend, Stone Cates, and I was singularly obsessed with how I would spend what little time I had left. I worried about whether or not I would die with dignity - I was concerned that when the end came I would be in so much pain that there would be no grace.

I was lucky in that I had an amazing support system in place - family and friends who offered their love to me both loudly and silently. When you're facing your own mortality, you need a balance of the two," she added with a tiny smile. "And then things started to change - first it was AZT - a drug that remains a lifeline to so many - and then came the cocktail. Instead of worrying about cancers eating away at me, I began to hope. My t-cells climbed and my CD4 count dropped and I began to really believe that I could have a future - one that Stone and so many others were denied.

I embraced the future wholeheartedly. I fell in love again, I laughed, I went to school, I danced on a terrace under moonlight, I had my heartbroken and I became a doctor. I felt -" she paused, giving a small nod of her head, "I felt normal. But I also discovered that normal is relative when you are HIV positive.

Dating is a minefield requiring expert navigation under the best of circumstances," she said with a small laugh. A ripple of laughter echoed through the room. "HIV is not the best of circumstances. I experienced rejection by men who were too afraid to be intimate with me, regardless of the protection used. I cannot fault them - you can't dictate to someone else what their fear should be. I also had the bizarre experience of men who sought me out once they were aware of my medical status because they wanted the adrenaline rush that I seemed to represent. I was able to rationalize all of it because at the end of the day I was healthy and strong and working in a job I had dreamed of from a very young age.

One of the downsides of HIV is it sometimes forces you to be secretive. You don't want to unnecessarily worry your friends just because you have the sniffles and in the back of your mind you're worried that it's not the sniffles - that it's something else - something serious. It's a reflex to want to make sure the people that matter to you are at ease with your disease. So when your protocol fails, you tend not to tell anyone.

My protocol failed in 2002."

She glanced over to Patrick who stared at her, mouth agape. She heard the quiet gasps in various corners of the room. Her doctor had been the only other person in her life who had known that and now an entire room knew.

"My t-cells had started to plummet and I had a cough that I could not shake. My doctor at the time was much calmer than I was - he told me not to worry, that another combination of drugs - one that would put this virus back to sleep - was out there. I did not share his confidence" she said hoarsely, "because while there are few certainties in this disease, a failing immune system is one.

It took two tries - and nearly a month before he had found the right combination. Meantime my body fought the new drugs with everything they had. The first two weeks of the new protocol were particularly brutal - so much so that I took personal leave from work. I left a pillow and blanket in my bathroom as I seemed to spend as much time there as anywhere else in my apartment. Once the extreme nausea and paralyzing headaches stopped, I got the second gift of the new protocol - large purple spots all over my body. I was the only woman in the middle of a Parisian heatwave wearing a turtleneck. The fashionistas were outraged" she joked lightly.

"So much has changed since I was 17. I think of the future now in terms of years rather than months, I know that I can be a full contributing member of society - whether it's as a doctor, a mother, a wife or a friend - I can do anything.

But there is much that hasn't changed in that time. I still have dreams of death and waking worries about mortality. Much as when I was a teenager, I am not afraid of death - I believe it to be another step on a very long journey - but I am afraid of dying. I am afraid of dying alone, I am afraid of dying in pain and I am afraid I will not be strong enough to face what is my inevitable future.

Being HIV positive is not as simple as popping a couple of pills and then getting on with your day; it's constant vigilence against infection, cuts and blood exposure. It's taking the time to reassure people - some who should just know better- that they really can't contract the disease from the water fountain. Some days being HIV positive is about being angry - about admitting that this just isn't fair and that I'd give almost anything not to be positive. But it's also about being open enough to fall in love again" she said directly to Patrick, "and not spending all your time worrying about possibly infecting your partner."

She exhaled slowly and took another sip of water, letting it cool the fire that had been building in her throat.

"I have hope" she asserted as she smiled broadly. "I have hope that there is a cure coming. I have hope that a vaccine will be discovered and that the number of newly infected people will start to truly diminsh. Nights like tonight strengthen me - there is education and advocacy in this room along with love and compassion. And so in the moments when I have doubt, I think back on nights like tonight and I feel better. So, thank you for being here. Thank you for opening both your hearts and your wallets as both are needed if we are going to continue to make progress in this war. And I could not find a greater group of people to stand shoulder to shoulder with on the front lines.

Thank you."

Having run the gauntlet of well wishers Robin finally made her way back to the table and promptly flopped on to Patrick's lap. She buried her face in his shoulder as several stray tears escaped from her eyes and trickled down her cheek.

"That was hard" she admitted shyly against his jacket.

He protectively closed his arms around her and pressed his lips her cheek, near her ear. "I am so proud of you and I love you."

Robin's sigh reverberated through his body as he lightly trailed a hand down her back. Lifting her head, Robin gave him a watery smile. "Tell me again."

"I love you" he repeated, nipping at her lips between each word.

Hearing the introduction for the children's choir, Robin slipped from his lap into her own chair and turned her attention to the stage but kept hold of his hand. Patrick brought her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. As he reached for his wine glass he froze in place, noticing the tremor. Closing his eyes, he swore silently under his breath.

This was not possible.

This could not be happening again.

The steroids were working, the fluid in his brain had been receding; this was nothing more than his nervousness for Robin making itself known. He closed his hand around the stem of the glass and brought it to his lips.

Taking a sip, he felt the telltale alkaline taste in his mouth and the slow pounding in his head.

He needed to get out of there.