Chapter 43

I need to let you know
You don't have to go it alone

As they lay in bed, tangled up together, Patrick lazily stroked his fingertips over her breast. He loved the feel of her skin - it was always soft and seemed to offer a permanent invitation to be touched.

Pressing his lips to her temple in a gentle kiss, he whispered to her. "Where are you right now?"

Shifting and burrowing closer to him, she raised her head slightly. "I'm here."

"Liar," he teased quietly.

Robin supressed a smile. "I was thinking about Christmas."

"Thinking about what you want to ask Santa for? I hope you're not too ambitious because I have it on good authority that you are most definitely on the naughty list." Her giggle reverberated through his body and his fingers curled through her long, silky hair.

"I thought you liked me naughty?"

"Hell yes" he replied with a smile, "just not sure the man in the red suit shares my...appreciation for it."

"Well you have certainly not been shy about showing your appreciation" she said as her cheeks flushed. No man had ever made her feel as desirable and wanton as he had and the experience was taking some getting used to.

Tipping her chin upwards, he brushed his lips against hers. "So what were you thinking about Christmas?"

She pulled thoughtfully at her bottom lip. "Do you...do you have plans?"

"Plans?" he queried, his eyebrow quirked skywards.

Robin pulled herself up to a sitting position, wrapping the sheet around her; she smiled as Patrick tugged the sheet downwards.

"I guess what I'm asking is what do you normally do at Christmas?"

"Work" he said matter of factly. "Which I guess isn't an option this year. What do you normally do?"

"Uncle Mac hosts the Scorpio Christmas with Maxie and Georgie. There's turkey and stuffing and goofy paper hats. Would you...would you be interested in coming?"

He gave a wry smile and a small nod. "I think I'd like that."

"We could invite your dad-"

"No" he replied emphatically.

"Patrick, I thought things were getting better."

"They are, sort of but Robin I'm not ready to play happy families with him just yet. Why do you think I worked the shifts on Christmas? I had no family to go home to and celebrate with and that is his fault."

She chewed nervously on the inside of her cheek, unsure if she should push on or not. Patrick was opening up more every day, letting her in and she was torn as to whether she should just accept what he had offered so far or try and draw more out.

"Christmas can be a time of forgiveness" she offered tentatively. "Maybe if you reached out to him-"

Furiously kicking back the covers, Patrick leapt from the bed. Reaching for his jeans he stepped into them, shaking his head as he yanked the zipper up. "Reach out to him? Reach out TO HIM?" he asked, his voice rising in agitation. "Why the fuck should I?"

Unprepared for the sudden change in his mood, Robin grabbed her robe from the bedpost and wrapped it around herself. Leaning over to the nightstand, she flicked on the table lamp.

"Because he's your father" she told him simply.

"Whatever" he sniffed. "That's just a title. For it to mean anything you actually have to do some work around it and he hasn't."

"That's not entirely true Patrick" she continued, ignoring the danger signals bleating loudly around her. "You yourself have told me great stories about time with him when you were younger and he's here for you now, that has to count for something."

"It doesn't" he snapped as his memory was flooded with memories of missed birthdays and holidays. He had spent years telling anyone who would ask that he didn't care and it didn't matter when in fact he did care and it had mattered very much to him.

She tried another track. "I'm just saying that maybe this could be a time for the two of you to come together. Get past some of the hurt."

His brown eyes blazed angrily as he glared at her. "Like you did with your father?"

"My father pretended to be dead for 15 years" she stated evenly.

"My father might as well have been."

"Patrick! You don't mean that" she gasped.

He could feel the anger swirling around inside him, bubbling to the surface. He didn't understand the rage that seemed to come from nowhere and take root. His father had always been a difficult subject but it had never provoked such a response in him, not even when he was trying to talk him into accepting a liver transplant. His fingertips tingled and his head felt as though it was swimming in murky waters. The impulse to bolt was getting stronger.

"Don't presume to tell me how I feel about my father, Robin. You don't have the slightest clue!"

"I didn't mean to step on your toes, I was just trying to-"

"Fix me" he finished for her. "You were just trying to fix me. Can't fix the fucking tumour in my head so why not fix my relationship with my father? If you need a hobby, I'm not it" he spat as he paced across the bedroom floor like a caged animal.

Robin recoiled at his vitriol; it was a side of Patrick she had never seen. Even in some of the most intense life/death situations in the OR he had always been steady and never prone to tantrums.

He dragged his hand through his hair in frustration. "This is why I've avoided relationships for so long - I'm not looking to be fixed or healed or cured of my secret pain. If you want a fixer upper, then trade me in for another model, 'cause I'm not fucking interested." Pulling a sweatershirt from the closet, he pulled it over his head and stalked from the bedroom.

Her mouth agape in shock, Robin could do little but stare at him as he disappeared from view. She flinched as she heard the front door slam shut; glancing over at the clock it read 5:42 a.m. Pushing back the covers, she padded to the kitchen, sighing heavily.

Having waited around the apartment until the last possible minute before absolutely having to leave for work, Robin had been both disappointed and worried that Patrick had not returned. Disappointed that he walked out and worried that something had happened. For the first time since she was diagnosed with HIV, she was beginning to appreciate how frightening it must have been for her Uncle and her friends, concerned that something, anything could happen to her. She had felt smothered at times but now, with Patrick, she understood the need or the desire to control something, anything.

Settled on her stool in front of her microscope, she flipped open her file folder and looked at her notes. There was nothing she could do about Patrick until she got home, the least she could do in the interim was get some actual work done - provided she could keep her concentration long enough. She looked over to the stack of journal articles piled high on her desk and let out a small breath. Her intern had pulled everything she could find on meningioma in the last three years and she had yet to begin to make a dent in it. She wanted to read through them but Patrick's words about wanting to fix him echoed loudly in her head and she wondered if there was something to it.

Maybe he was right. Maybe she really did want to fix his tumour and worried that she wouldn't be able to, was focusing on his other issues. In retrospect, she would have been equally angry if he had tried to push her towards her father or insist that she make the first move. It had been an arrogant and ill-conceived idea on her part.

"So this is where the genius happens."

Looking to the door, she did a double take. "Darren. This is a nice surprise." Sliding from her stool, she waved him in. "Come in."

"I can't stay for long but I thought I'd check on you - haven't seen you in a few weeks."

She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "I've just been busy and haven't had a lot of time for group lately."

He nodded. "Is your health okay? Viral load? CD4 count?"

"Yeah - yes. I'm good. It's...life is pretty big at the moment."

"Okay" he replied with a smile. "I have something for you."

"You do?"

Reaching inside the bag he was carrying, he pulled out a small box of cookies and placed them on the counter. "Thought you might like a taste of what you're missing" he said with a wink. "You can't leave me to have all the cookies."

"That's very kind" she laughed. "I'll be back soon Darren, I promise."

"Cool. Take it easy Robin."

As he headed to the door, Robin suddenly felt the words pile up in her throat and push their way out. "Patrick has a brain tumour," she blurted.

Darren stopped where he was and slowly turned aroun. "Oh Robin. I'm so sorry - what's the prognosis?"

She scuffed her shoe along the floor. "He's in radiation now and it's looking good, I think. It just happened in the last few weeks - that's why I haven't been to a meeting. I've been...we've been dealing with this."

"That must be difficult" he sympathized. "But it sounds to me like our little group would be more beneificial than ever before."

"Maybe" she replied weakly, "but Patrick has to come first and until-"

Darren interrupted her. "No. Robin you have to come first and then Patrick. It's so easy to lose yourself as you care for someone else - their needs overtake your own. It's the curse of the caregiver and it's exhausting and draining under the best of circumstances. It only gets more complicated when you have HIV."

"I am an actual doctor you know," she said irritatedly.

"I'm sorry if I stepped on your toes" he apologized gently. "Your plate is very full and I don't mean to add any stress to it. I just wanted to make sure that you didn't start sacrificing yourself in all of this."

She shook her head. "I shouldn't have snapped. I will come to a meeting and soon - I just need to get us on some solid ground first."

"I understand. Look, group is a way to help cope with some of the crap going on in our lives- not just HIV. Come when you're ready - we'll be there. In the meantime, take care of yourself and enjoy the cookies. Patrick is lucky to have you on his side"

"Thanks" she smiled.

As Darren left, she flipped open the box and sighed as she brought the cookie to her mouth. She had her doubts that Patrick shared Darren's assertion about his luck.

Patrick let out a long breath as he settled on the bench facing the water. It was the same pier that Robin had brought him to following his exposure to HIV in the OR; she had told him to look out at the water and find some perspective. He had fought her at first but as with many things, she ultimately was right. And if ever he were in need of perspective, it was now. His behaviour towards her had apalled him. He had never considered himself a cruel person but his words had been harsh and disproportionate to the conversation. He had been a man who had prided himself on always being in control and now he felt as though he was spinning wildly out of it with no capacity to anticipate his reaction to anything until it happened.

That he needed to apologize was not in question but before he did so, he very much wanted to understand why he had lashed out. One of the skills that made him a brilliant surgeon was to look at any problem from the end point and work backwards, ultimately finding the causes along the way. He was discovering that particular skill was not as easily applied to his emotions.

Flipping the collar of his jacket up around his ears, he dropped his head back on the bench and stared up at the morning sky. It was crisp, bright day - completely at odds with how he was feeling.

"Mind if I join you?"

Raising his head at the sound of the familiar voice, Patrick smiled. "Good morning Alexis. You're welcome to pull up a piece of pine but I should warn you I'm not very good company."

Giving a small shrug, she sat beside him and pulled off the lid of her coffee; its steam rose, swirling into the winter air. "What's got your panties in a twist?" she asked conversationally.

He smirked. "I have a brain tumour and I'm being a bit of an ass."

"Oh." She took a sip of her coffee. "I have lung cancer and I'm bald."

"Are you trying to make me feel better?" he asked, feeling some of the darkness ebb away.

"Is it working?"

"Well I do have all my own hair," he teased lightly.

"No one likes a show off Patrick," she smiled. "I'm sorry about the tumour - is it treatable?"

He nodded. "It is. I started radiation a couple of days ago."

"Are you scared?"

His tongue darted from his mouth and swiped against his lips as he contemplated the answer. It was an easy enough question but the answer seemed complicated - like so many other things these days.

"I think so" he admitted finally.

"You think so? You aren't sure?"

Giving a small shrug, he leaned forward, bringing his elbows to rest on his knees as he stared out at the water. "There isn't a lot of room for fear or self-doubt in the OR, not when you have someone's brain opened before you. I've spent so long trying to ignore the feeling that now I'm not sure when it happens."

Tapping one of her perfectly manicured nails against the rim of her cup, she inhaled sharply. "I think fear is a good thing. I don't think it always comes out the right way but I think it helps keep you honest."

"I don't know about that. So far all it's made me do is yell at the one person I don't want to yell at."

"Robin?"

"Yeah" he confirmed hoarsely. "I...I yelled at her and I shouldn't have."

"Probably not but yet yelled at her because you could - because people who love us make allowances for that. And sometimes when you're sick, you just have to yell."

Leaning back against the bench, he turned and faced her. "It's no excuse though"

"Probably not and I don't think anyone should take a page from my book on how to handle illness but ultimately Patrick, being sick sucks. It's like a bad game of tug-of-war and you're being pulled towards being sicker while at the same time digging your heels in the sand not wanting to give up any more ground than you already have. It makes you tired and cranky and sometimes irrationally emotional. It can drive some of us to yell or kick the cat and all you can do is apologize for it after and try to be better."

Her words rolled about in his head and he could feel the pressure lifting from his chest. Feeling a slight tingle in his hand, he flexed it and was relieved as it ended as quickly as it had begun.

"How is your treatment going Alexis?"

"Oh fine" she replied breezily. "My tumour is shrinking. And you know, every two weeks I get poison injected into my veins, throw up for three days and spend the next 11 days getting to the point where I can tolerate food and play with my daughters only to have it start all over again. I keep hearing that cancer can be a gift - I'm looking for the return policy."

Patrick chuckled. "Were you always this sarcastic."

"No" she replied seriously. "I was worse. Cancer softened me." She smiled at him as she pulled her hat tighter on her head.

"I'm not sure what brought you to the pier today" he told her quietly, "but I am glad to have run in to you."

"Me too. Listen Patrick, if I have learned anything in the last few months is that there are good days and bad days. Sounds like today was a bad day for you- go home, apologize to Robin, remind her that you love her and then cut yourself some slack."

Rising to his feet, he jammed his hands into his pockets and curled his fingers around the medallion nestled deep in the pocket. Exhaling quietly, he flashed his dimple to her. "Thank you Alexis, I needed to hear that."

She waved to him as he climbed the stairs. Poised at the entrance of the alley, he looked back at the pier and smiled. Perspective came in a number of ways, you just had to open your eyes.