Chapter 47

Life began when I saw your face
And I hear your laugh like a serenade

Feeling the absence of his girlfriend's body threaded around his, Patrick groggily reached across the bed for her. His eyes snapped over when he was met with nothing but empty space. Sitting up suddenly, he wiped the sleep from his eyes and glanced at the clock. It was nearly 7:30 in the morning and too early for her protocol. He groped for his shorts and stepped in to them before stumbling out of the bedroom.

The sweet smell of caffeine wafted through the air and invaded his nostrils, beckoning him closer to the kitchen. He spied Robin, fully dressed with her hands wrapped around a mug, sitting on the couch.

Scratching his shoulder, he walked to her, flopping unceremoniously on the couch beside her.

"What on earth are you doing up?" he asked, his voice still rough.

Smiling, Robin leaned in and stole a morning kiss. "I got paged."

"What?"

"Hooper needs me on a consult and I need to get caught up on the file before I head in."

"I thought you were off today?" He surprised himself as he heard the small tinge of whine in his voice.

"I was but I owe Hooper and he's calling in the favour. I should be back this afternoon."

"So how we are going to make use of our blanket of mistletoe?"

"Didn't you make enough use of that last night? I'm pretty sure we've only slept about two hours."

Her hair hung round her shoulders like a curtain and reaching out, he let it rain gently through his fingers. "Haven't you learned yet? I'm insatiable" he smirked.

"Why do I keep forgetting that?" she asked playfully.

"Not sure but I think I might have to punish you for it."

She laughed lightly in response. "I'm also kind of sticking you with the clean up" she told him as she looked tentatively around the room.

Empty plastic cups, balled up napkins and strands of garland and tinsel were strewn about the apartment and she couldn't help but think that a hurricane disguised as Santa had cut a path.

"No problem – on one condition."

"Oh?"

"We make use of the mistletoe when you get home."

Shaking her head, she muttered, "Incorrigible."

"That's how you like me"

"Generally yes" she replied with a grin. "Now I have a condition for you."

"Which is?"

"Care to explain this to me?" she asked, holding out an oval picture frame with a red ribbon attached to it.

His eyes widened in shock as he did a double take. "Where the…how the…" he stammered, "where the hell did you get that?"

Seeing his neck and his cheeks flush deep red, Robin started to laugh and bit down on her lip to stop. "I found it on the tree. I must say….I had no idea you were so bendy!!"

"I am going to fucking kill Smitty" he growled, trying to grab it from her.

The picture dated from first year of medical school and having lost a bet, he was forced to pose, naked. Having drawn a face on his behind, he had bent over and taped a Santa hat on his hip.

Pulling it away from him, Robin jumped from the couch. "I actually think it features one of your better sides!"

"I swear to god I am going to KILL him!" Patrick fumed as Robin danced in front of him holding the picture just out of reach.

"Yeah well, you can think up ways to extract your revenge on him while you make the apartment all sparkly clean. I will be taking this little nugget into the office with me-"

"What? NO! Don't you dare show it to anyone!" he warned.

"Oh my" she giggled. "Patrick Drake is shy? Who knew?" Slipping the frame inside her purse, she leaned forward and kissed him. "I'm not going to show it to anyone, I'm just going to stop you from getting rid of it while I'm out."

"I hate you" he grumbled good naturedly.

"I know" she nodded. "I'll be back soon - love you"

Walking her to the door, he slid one hand around her waist while the other cupped the back of her head as Patrick nibbled passionately on her lips. "Love you too - be brilliant."

Closing the door behind her, he sighed heavily as he rubbed his hands over his face. Walking to the kitchen, he retreived his pill bottle and counted out his steroid dosage. Leaving the pills on the counter, he poured a large glass of water before scooping the pills back up in his hand. He examined the pills closely, narrowing his eyes in frustration.

"Why won't you work better you stupid little fucks? I'd rather be bloated and hyper than having radiation shot at my head." Popping the pills under his tongue, he took a large swallow of water and waited for them to work their way down.

Turning back to face the living room, he shook his head. Parties always seemed like a good idea when you were planning them, less so when you had to clean up. Grabbing a garbage bag from under the sink, he set about his task.

Three hours and as many cups of coffee later, he flopped, exhausted on to the bed.

His energy was not what it normally was. He was unsure if anyone else - specifically Robin - had started to notice but he was beginning to really feel the effects of the radiation. The lack of sleep that was his residency had been no big deal to him but now he found that he craved sleep, that he could nap at will - for hours. He was doing what he could to cover, not wanting to remind anyone, least of all himself, that he was so seriously ill but it ws proving harder with each passing session.

Blowing out his cheeks, he turned his head to the side and smiled as he looked at Robin's dresser. She was, by all accounts, a neat and tidy person - except for her dresser. The top of it was overflowing with postcards, pictures, notes and cards all begging to be filed. The piles were gaining in height and threatening to spill over on to the floor below. There was something quite endearing about her one messy place.

The corner of a folded paper that had drifted to floor caught his eye as it billowed against the vent. Groaning as he rose from the bed, he reached over and picked it up. About to put it back on the top of the pile, his curiosity got the best of it and he flipped it open. His mouth dropped open slightly as his eyes focused on the unsure scrawl and he realized he had seen it before.

It was Stone's list of things to do before he died.

Knowing how precious the often-folded piece of paper was to her, he carefully folded it and placed it back on the dresser. Laying back on the bed, he stared up at the ceiling, smirking at the mistletoe. Christmas.

It was five days away and he still had yet to find a gift for Robin. Gift buying was not a strength and he wasn't sure he had recovered from the stress of trying to find the perfect gift for her for the Nurses' Ball. Christmas was a hundred times worse. There were expectations - his or hers, he wasn't sure.

As he let several ideas roll around in his head, the numbered list - Stone's list - flashed before his eyes. That was what he needed. A list. He needed to make a list of things he could buy for Robin and that would help narrow it down. Sitting up, he grabbed his head as the inevitable reminder of his tumour appeared. He took several deep breaths before finding his feet and heading to the office in search of a pad of paper.

Having found what he needed he settled on the couch and started to scribble. Ring - no. Necklace - did that already. Bracelet - maybe. Earrings - god no. Chewing on the tip of his pen, he began to wonder if there was an experience he could give her - something to make a memory around. He sat completely still for nearly half an hour trying to determine what would be the kind of show stopping, wow factor experience that would sweep Robin off her feet. As though flood gates opened, he began to scribble in earnest - one idea tumbled out on the other.

In ten minutes he had made a list of 11 moments he wanted to give Robin. He stared at the list, laughing to himself at having discovered he was indeed one of those guys. He reread the 11 items and realized he had created a list - like Stone's - of things he wanted to do. Unlike Stone though, he was not a young teenager who had barely began to taste anything of what life had to offer - he was 30, he had traveled and had boxes full of memories. Now he wanted to create memories with someone else. With Robin.

Tearing the sheet from the pad, he folded it and placed it inside his wallet. He had more time on his hands these days than he was comfortable with and just created, in short order, a project for himself. This is how he would spend his time while receiving treatment - he would find a way to give this all to Robin.

As pleased as he was with his sudden discovery, he sighed at still being without a Christmas gift idea.

The shrill ring of his cell phone pulled him from his reverie and fishing it out of his pocket, he flipped it open.

"Drake" he barked.

"Patrick? It's Alan Quatermaine. I was wondering if you could come to the hospital - I have the results of your final HIV test."