Chapter 42

Do you want my presence or need my help
Who knows where that might lead

Patrick pulled nervously on the back of his hospital gown trying to ward off the draft. Somehow, until now, it had escaped his notice how cold exam rooms were. Casting a cursory glance around the small, antiseptic room he shook his head in disbelief as he looked at the anatomy drawings and posters serving as crude decoration. How intimidating it must be for a patient, a nervous patient to look around the room and see artistic dissections of the brain. There was no comfort, no reassurance in the art, just a loud reminder that the patient was in a world they knew little about.

That he could name all the parts of the dissection was of no comfort to him either. A "hang in there baby" poster would be more welcome than what he was faced with. Both his father and his girlfriend had offered to accompany him to his first appointment but he refused them both - more gruffly than gently - he didn't want an audience. There would be side effects but nothing too severe, not at first anyways and he wanted to pretend he was healthy for as long as he could. In that quiet corner of his mind where he could still be clinical he knew just how serious his situation was. To have progressed so quickly to radiation was not a good sign.

The hair against the back of his neck raised against the chill and he made a mental note to speak to the Chief of Staff, the electrician or anyone to adjust the temperature in the exam rooms. It was hard enough to wrap your head around getting treatment, one didn't need to freeze their behind off in the process.

His eyes snapped up as the door swung open and a small smile of relief crossed his face as Eric walked through.

There was a thing about best friends that was hard to define other than to say they just got it. He often thought that falling in love would be like having a best friend but supersized; he knew now there was a difference. He had no real secrets from Robin but he also had little history. He and Eric could fill volumes with what they shared - both good and bad. He was the first person Patrick told, out loud, that his father was an alcoholic. There was something about the way he answered him, telling him it sucked, that just made him feel okay. He had been the first person Eric told about his cancer and it had never been a question for him whether or not he would be by his side. It was understood that there was no other place for him to be. His girlfriend left him and other friends were too freaked out to spend much if any time with him but Patrick would see him every day, staying by his bedside when he rightly should have been home catching the few precious hours of sleep in his own bed that residency allowed. The difference, he discovered, between a girlfriend and a best friend was that he didn't feel the need to protect Eric or worry about his feelings. He loved him like a brother but felt no need to take care of him.

Robin was a different story. He wanted to ensure that she never felt another minute of hurt or doubt in her life again. He wanted to give her moments and memories and was desperately afraid of disappointing her. He loved her like he had loved no other person in his life.

"Smitty" he greeted him with a smile.

"Pantsy. You best not let Robin get a look at you in that peek-a-boo gown or she might force you to wear one all the time:"

He laughed for the first time since he had snuck in the side entrance of the hospital. "You hitting on me?"

"Hardly," he sniffed. "You're not my type - you're too high maintenance."

Patrick rolled his eyes in response. "I thought you had to be back in the city."

"I do" he nodded. "I have a consult later this afternoon and then a surgery booked tomorrow. But if you think I was going to let you go in that room without me hanging around for a bit then I would say your tumour has killed what sense you ever had."

"I'm glad you're here" he admitted.

Eric slid beside him on the exam table. "I have something for you."

"You read the film upside down and I don't actually have a meningioma?" he asked with a weak smile.

"Sorry dude." Reaching into his pocket he passed him a small leather bag.

Patrick gave him a curious look before pulling open the strings and emptying its contents into his hand. A small gasp escaped from the back of his throat. "Smitty, no."

"I don't need it right now, you do."

Pulling on the silver chain he held the medallion up to his eyes. It was a silver round of Michael the Archangel and it had been Eric's constant companion through surgery and round after round of chemo. When it had seemed as though there would be no miracle for him, when he was just skin and bones, the medallion had hung from his neck and Eric had refused to give it up for anything. Michael was a warrior. He would tell anyone who would listen. And so am I.

"I'm not that religious"

"It's not about religion," Eric told him. "It's about faith and those are two very different things. Patrick, this isn't going to be easy - it's going to suck in a hundred different ways - so I say call on whatever or whomever you have to."

He could say nothing in response as felt his eyes dampen with tears he refused to shed. "Thanks" he croaked when he finally found his voice.

Eric nodded. "Okay, they're going to take you in about 10 minutes. I'm not more than a phone call away and I'll be back in two weeks to chart your progress. I want a promise you'll call if anything changes between now and then."

"I will" he told him solemnly.

Eric nudged his shoulder. "Be good and if you can't be good, then fake it."

Patrick watched his friend slide from the table and smirked. "Don't you know by now Eric, I don't believe in faking anything."

"Whatever. See you soon."

He gave him a small wave as he disappeared out the door. Clutching the medallion to his chest, he swallowed thickly and hoped that this really was the first step towards it being over.

Nudging Noah's shoulder, Robin passed him a coffee.

"How did you know I'd be here?" he asked, gratefully accepting her offering.

"Where else would we be?" she asked as much to herself as to him.

Patrick had told them both in no uncertain terms that they were to steer clear of the Nuclear Medicine floor and that under no circumstances where they to be anywhere near his appointment.

Pushing back the plastic tab on her lid, she leaned back in her chair and stared up at the Nuclear Medicine sign. Patrick could lay down as many rules as he wanted but there was just no guarantee they would be followed.

"How are you?" he asked quietly.

"Good. You?"

Noah narrowed his hazel eyes and looked carefully at his son's girlfriend. She was unlike any other woman that Patrick had ever met and he knew it. He appreciated her determination, her loyalty and how she was guided by doing the right thing even when it was not the easy thing. Most of all, he liked that she loved his son; only good could come from that.

"I'm good," he replied.

"We're terrible liars" she announced with a slight giggle.

Mirroring her position, he flopped back in the chair. "Pretty much," he conceded.

"This can't be easy for you Noah." Robin was treading as carefully as she could. She worried what this meant for Noah, for his sobriety and for his relationship with his son. Patrick was slowly but surely beginning to count on his father and Robin didn't want to see him disappointed.

"I'm working each one of the twelve steps Robin."

Her cheeks flushed immediately and her gaze dropped to the ground. "That's not what I meant" she stammered uneasily.

"It's okay Robin" he told her gently. "When you publically go down in flames, you give up some of your privacy in the process."

"Noah - I didn't mean to imply-"

"You didn't," he corrected her softly. "I out and out said it. My son has enough to worry about, I don't plan on adding me to the list," he reassured her.

She smiled weakly. "Are you scared?"

"A little. You?"

Robin's nod was almost imperceptible. "I was really worried when he cut himself in the OR. I thought that was as bad as it could get - being exposed to HIV - but at the same time, I know the ins and outs of that disease. I know resources and alternatives and I was ready to call on everything I had if the worst happened."

"And now?"

"I don't know the ins and outs of this and I feel like I'm playing catch up all the time. The research is so varied on the subject and there doesn't seem to be one approved alternative treatment."

"There aren't any" he said quietly. "There are more treatment options than there were when...than there were before but it's more of the same. The course to surgery is unchanged."

"I just wish..."

"That you could fix it for him?" he finished for her.

"That obvious huh?" she said with smile.

Leaning forward and bringing his elbows to rest on his knees, he tilted his head to the side and smiled back. "Robin, you wouldn't be the first person who wanted to use their medical training to save someone they love."

"I hear a but."

"But it's not always possible and you can make yourself crazy trying."

"But I would be crazy not to try" she challenged him quietly.

He rubbed the back of his neck trying to relieve the kinks that seemed to multiply with rabbit-like frequency. He had not slept the night before and as he had done when Mattie fell ill, he started a diary. The pain and the fear had to go some place and paper was a better solution than a bottle.

"My son is lucky to have you" he told her, not for the first time.

"We're lucky to have each other. Noah, your son has given me more in the last few months than I had thought possible. I was sure that my opportunities at love were long gone and I was doing my best to make peace with that-"

"No one can ever make peace with that," he interjected knowingly.

"Nope, you're right" she agreed. "And then Patrick happened and I realize now that every moment, every experience good and bad had been preparing me for him."

Noah's heart thundered inside his chest. He had long dreamed that someone would feel that way about his son - his son who had been conceived with such great love and now that it had happened, he felt both relief and satisfaction. Satisfaction that the loving household he grew up in made enough of an imprint on him to allow him to love another person as they deserved to be loved and relief at the knowledge that his abandonment had not forever closed off his heart.

The doors to the waiting room slid open and they both looked up to see Patrick walk through, his appointment finished.

He stood staring at them in disbelief, his hands slung low on his hips. For a moment he was filled with anger that they had both defied him, that they had done the one thing he asked them not to do. And as the feeling passed it was replaced by one of relief, he was just glad to see them. He quickly tucked his medallion inside his shirt.

"I know you told us not to come" Robin said, getting to her feet.

"But we didn't listen," Noah added.

"So I can see."

"We're not hovering or trying to smother you, it's just...well..." Robin looked to Noah to fill in the blanks.

"It's just that if you really thought we would be anywhere else then you're crazy."

Giving a half smile, he held his hand out to Robin. "Well since you're both here, I guess you guys can buy me breakfast. I'm starving."