Chapter 44

We all need a little tenderness

Flopping on to the couch, Patrick glanced at his watch. Robin would be home shortly -or should be, provided he hadn't hurt her so badly that she decided to stay away.

He had spent the better part of the afternoon wandering along old piers which had been transformed into a haven for local artists and upscale boutiques. With not a lot of relationship experience behind him – or more accurately with no relationship experience behind him – he was a little unsure of what the best course of action for an apology was. He assumed there should be some kind of gift involved but as he meandered from store to store and found nothing to his liking, he decided that the apology was more important than any gift.

Apologies were not a big part of his personality. With the exception of Eric, he rarely allowed himself to get close enough to another person where an apology – a true, heartfelt one – would be needed. While understanding the concept of forgiveness, he was a little fuzzy on the reality of it as it was not something he was able to do.

Feeling a tremble work its way through his hand, he stared down at it and cursed silently under his breath. He hated this. Absolutely hated this. He felt weak and not in control and that more than anything unsettled him.

It had been months since he felt like himself. Everything had changed that afternoon in the OR – where he had pricked his finger. So many aspects of who he was, of how he defined himself had ebbed away that afternoon. His confidence had slipped, his unfailing belief that he was invincible had faltered and the reality of how alone he truly was, how isolated he had made himself, slapped him hard in the face.

There had been one good thing to come of all of it.

Robin.

She had given him no choice but to let her help him and his world had opened up in so many unexpected ways because of it. He loved her – his life, his heart, everything was fuller because of it.

But he didn't trust it. He didn't trust that it wouldn't all be taken away from him. He was more afraid of losing Robin or hurting her than he was of the tumour still growing steadily in his head. And that too was unsettling.

Alexis had suggested he cut himself some slack but he wasn't entirely sure how to do that. If his classmates and colleagues were to be polled and asked for one word to describe him, 'driven' would be the adjective of choice. And driven people didn't make allowances for failures and foibles and moments of self-doubt. They also didn't apologize.

As he heard Robin's key in the door, he swallowed nervously. There was a first time for everything.

Robin's legs were heavy as she climbed the three flights of stairs to her – their – apartment. Though she had tried to distract herself at work, her thoughts had returned frequently to Patrick throughout the day. It had taken all of her will power not to call him and check on him.

She worried that he was overwhelmed and breaking down. She worried that he was angry and alone. She worried that he was running away.

There was no residual anger left from their argument that morning. She wasn't upset or even disappointed in him. To a certain extent, she understood exactly how he felt. It was only a few short months ago that her world tumbled down around her ears and she had done everything to push him away. He had stood his ground and kept reaching for her until he reached back. Now she needed to do the same.

There was something he had said that morning that rang true with her. He accused her of wanting to fix him. And while she didn't want to fix him per se, she wanted to fix it – the tumour, the pain, the seizures. She always wanted to fix it.

She didn't want to change people themselves but she did want to have an impact on them, she wanted to matter to them and the easiest way for her to do that was to fix things. It was what had brought her back to Port Charles – a chance to fix Jason's problem which, she believed, would let him be the man she always knew he could be.

She had failed.

And now she was afraid of failing again.

Sliding her key into the lock, she held her breath as she pushed open the door.

As the door creaked open, Patrick rose to his feet. His hands, slightly clammy, were stuffed in his front pockets.

"Hey" he called to her, his legs rooted firmly where he stood.

Robin looked up with a mixture of trepidation and happiness. "Hey."

"I'm sorry"

"Are you okay?"

They laughed nervously as they spoke at the same time. Robin closed the door behind her and dropped her bag by the coat rack.

Overcome by the need to touch her, Patrick crossed the room, cupped her face and gently and tenderly kissed her lips. His brown eyes shimmered as he looked into hers and his lips twitched upwards in a smile.

"I'm really sorry" he repeated.

She gave a small nod. "I know. Let's go have a seat."

Slipping her hand through his, she lead him to the couch. They sat, without speaking, for several minutes, neither sure of how to begin.

"Are you okay?" Robin asked, sticking her toe in the pool first.

Patrick nodded. "I honestly don't know why I went off on you like that" he told her sheepishly "I never should have yelled at you and I am so sorry."

"Well you didn't yell without a little provocation from me" she qualified. "I know that your father is an uneasy subject for you and I shouldn't have tried to push so hard."

Tilting his head to the side, he studied her carefully. "Why did you?"

Robin swallowed thickly and ran her hands through her hair. "You were kind of right this morning -I was trying to fix something. Not you - I don't think there is anything wrong with you."

He gave her a wry grin. "So you think I'm perfect?"

Robin snorted and shook her head laughingly. "Hardly" she told him with a smile. "But I don't think you're a fixer upper or in need of an overhaul or anything."

"I'm not seeing where I was kind of right."

"I do have a need to fix things. Things, Patick. When life feels like it's getting away from me, outside of my control, I try to fix everything inside of my control. Do you...do you remember what I said on the roof the night that Sam was shot?"

The mere mention of that night pushed him closer to her on the couch until their legs were touching. Reaching for her legs, he pulled them into his lap and gently stroked them. That night had been a watershed for him. He thought he had Robin figured out, thought she was reserved and shy, fearful and nervous around anything not involving medicine. But as the wind had whipped up from the streets below cooling the night air and her walls had crumbled around her, he learned that she was infiinitely more complex than he ever could have imagined. That while he had lived a life of privilege and until his mother's death, almost unrelenting happiness, she had seen and dealt with more by the age of 20 than any one person should have their entire lives. She had asked him what was wrong with wanting to feel safe and unafraid and he realized just how strong she was.

"Which part?" he asked quietly.

"About my parents - when I said -"

"That if you did everything perfectly, got good grades that they would be safe?"

Robin could not keep the smile from her face as she looked at the man she loved. They had barely been friends that night but he had offered her a shoulder and some support and she had partaken of both. Though they had never spoken of it since, it had been a profound experience for her; it had not occurred to her that he would recall that night as clearly as she did.

"Yeah."

"So you think if you make my life perfect my brain tumour will go away?"

"Sounds dumb, huh?"

Shaking his head, he reached across and touched the claddagh necklace hanging around her neck and smiled. "Not at all" he whispered. Robin closed her hand around his. "It's just...it's...my life can't be made perfect Robin - any more than yours can."

Her rich brown eyes met his and she held his gaze. "I know - I just...Patrick I hate this. I hate that you have this and I can't do anything about it."

His lips brushed against hers as he kissed her softly. She crawled to his lap, deepening the kiss as her tounge twirled around his in needful passion. Her hands slid over his shoulders, sweeping against his skin as she pressed her body against his. Breathlessly she broke the kiss, fingering her swollen lips.

"So I was thinking" he began, panting slightly.

"Did it hurt?" she teased, her eyes dancing.

"Smart ass."

"What were you thinking?"

"Let's have a Christmas party."

"What?" she asked in surprise.

"A Christmas party - we can get a tree and decorate the apartment - nothing too fancy but invite our friends over and I could...I could think about inviting my father."

"Don't do that because of this morning" she told him quickly.

"I'm not. I wasn't the only one that was kind of right this morning - you were too. I need to...I need to at least try with my dad. I'm not sure what that means or how that all plays out but wishing him a Merry Christmas is probably a good way to start."

"I'm proud of you" she told him quietly.

His gaze dropped to his lap and he chewed on his lower lip. "I really am sorry I yelled at you."

She tipped his chin upwards, forcing him to look at her. "I know" she told him emphatically. "Why...Patrick you've apologized like four times."

His cheeks flushed slightly. "My parents never yelled at each other. It's not like they were perfect but they never, ever raised their voices to each other and I'm kind of embarrassed."

"It's fine, honestly. Did you ever think that maybe the tumour is what caused you to yell? You and I both know that the tumours can impact the function of the brain causing emotions to be heightened."

He shook his head forcefully. "I am not prepared to use that as an excuse. My mother handled this with grace and dignity and I need to do the same."

The reverence with which he spoke about his mother and her own battle with meningioma did not escape Robin's notice. There was something about the way he spoke about her that caught her interest. She began to wonder just how much of his mother's illness he had seen upclose and how much he had been protected from. Because if he believed that she didn't have moments of doubt, that she wouldn't have lashed out as the tumour grew and placed excruciating pressure on her brain, then he was setting unrealistic expectations for himself and they would all suffer as a result.

She needed to find out more about Mattie's illness but for the moment, decided to file it away until she could figure out how to do it without throwing the Drake men into chaos.