Chapter 61

Truth is worth more than pride

The persistent bleating of the alarm echoed in the bedroom. With a groan, Patrick rolled over and slammed his hand down on the snooze button. Rolling back, he gazed at Robin, her rich brown hair fanned out around her against the crisp white pillow case and with a slight tremble in his hand, he stroked it. Her lashes fluttered against her cheek as a soft sigh escaped from her lips.

"Robin" he called to her softly, "it's time to get up."

Protesting with a low groan, she tightened her grip on the sheets and rolled on to her side.

Lightly trailing his fingertips along her exposed back, he pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "Come on Robin, it's time."

"Uh-uh" she grunted.

"I'll put the coffee on and get your meds. Why don't you hop into the shower?"

"Yeah" she rasped, still not opening her eyes.

He left a quick kiss against her neck before pushing the covers back. Pulling on his boxer shorts, he padded to the kitchen.

Rolling on to her back, she slowly opened her eyes. Her muscles were on fire and her head was pounding - all she wanted was to go back to sleep. Tugging the sheets to her chin, she let out a slow shuddering breath. Lifting her head from the pillow, she was met with shooting pains all through her body and with a small groan, she clenched her eyes shut and flopped back against the pillow.

She flinched as she felt Patrick's hand on her shoulder. His normally gently touch felt like pins and needles against her skin. "Hey" he said softly, giving her a small shake. "Robin you have to get up or you're going to be late."

"I just need to sleep for another hour" she mumbled.

He gave her a curious look. It was completely out of character for her to sleep through her alarm and he felt a small shiver shimmy down his spine. "I brought your meds in with a bagel -you need to take those now."

Knowing he was right, she let out a loud sigh and slowly sat up, grimacing as she did so. Reaching for the glass of juice and her pills, she exhaled slowly as she placed the pill under her tongue.

"Do you want eggs for breakfast?" he asked quietly.

Blanching at the mention of food, Robin simply shook her head.

"Pretty hungover, huh? Or did I just wear you out last night?" he teased.

Having swallowed the last of her pills, she set the glass back down on the nightstand. "Perhaps a bit of both" she joked. Kneeling up, she brushed her lips against his. "Thanks for bringing me my meds."

He kissed her softly. "I'm trying to prove my worth as a house husband." His cheeks reddened immediately as the words left his mouth and they both stared at each other in surprise. "Actually, what I meant to say was my worth as a ...um..."

Chuckling lightly, Robin pushed back the covers and swung her legs to the floor. Grabbing her robe from the bed post she pulled it over her shoulders and walked around to the bed to where he was sitting. "You're cute when you freak yourself out." She nipped at his lips.

Patrick's hands slid around her waist as he returned her kiss. "Want my help in the shower?"

Smiling, she shook her head. "Not this morning baby. I just need to try and feel human again."

"Okay"

He gave her a light tap on the ass as she headed to the bathroom and was rewarded with a swivel of her hips in response. He shook his head at how easily the word 'husband' had escaped from his lips and flashed back to his conversation with Eric about wanting to marry her. It had been the most amazing thing, once he had realized that he wanted to marry her, a sense of calm had taken over his entire being; as though he suddenly understood what he was supposed to be doing. Now he just needed to get through this business with the tumour and he could get on with the business of his life. Flexing his left hand, he frowned at the persistent tremor. His hand would shake and tremble almost all the time now and he tried to ignore it but as the number of glasses, papers and keys dropped from his hand, it was becoming more difficult to do so. The sooner this was over the better.

xxxxx

Robin cradled her head in her hands as she leaned over her desk. She felt like a surfer as she rode wave after wave of nausea; her knees felt weak and her head pounded. And though she had been trying to convince herself differently for the last four hours, she knew this was not a hangover. Reaching for the handle of the bottom drawer, she pulled it open and retreived the Yale sweatshirt she kept there. Slipping off her lab coat, she pulled the soft fleece over her head before turning her attention back to the files in front of her.

She had pulled case files on every study of meningioma that she could get her hands on. Eric may not want her on his team but that didn't mean she was going to roll over and let other people take care of the person she loved. When Stone had developed AIDS she had been a teenager and there was nothing she could do for him other than hold his hand; when Jason had his catastrophic brain injury, she had again been without resources to help him outside of loving him. She was a doctor now - some would even say a brilliant one - and she was going to use everything she had to help Patrick.

As her mind drifted she grinned, thinking of his 'house husband' comment that morning and his immediate discomfort. Six months ago she would have been dissecting and analyzing exactly what Patrick's embarrassment meant but not now. In their time together she had learned that Patrick's heart worked faster than his head and every once in a while his heart spoke before he was ready. She knew he had been joking - to an extent. But she also knew their feelings for each other were intensifying, even if they did a lousy job saying it at the time.

There had been a time when she was with Jason that she had dreamed of marriage, that she had believed it possible. But as their relationship imploded and the pain of that failure sent her running as far as she could for as long as she could, she had pushed all thoughts of marriage from her head. Her time in Paris had been more rewarding professionally than personally and she had come to accept that marriage was likely not in the cards for her. Though she had been saddened by the realization at the time, she was also an inately practical person and knew her life would be full with or without it.

But now those images she had as a teenager of a life with a partner, with love, were slowly coming back into view. She could imagine a life with Patrick - in fact, if she were being perfectly honest she already had. On paper they were a pairing that shouldn't work but they did. He loved her, he respected her and he challenged her; three things that were massively important to her. He also made her feel safe without making her feel fragile, he made her laugh - loudly and having him in her life made her happier than anything ever had.

It was the dream of the future that was pushing her to find the solution to the present.

"Hey stranger - Happy New Year."

Robin lifted her head at the sound of the voice and gave a small smile as Darren filled her doorway. "Hey yourself - how are you?"

Darren stepped through the door. "I'm good. The question is how are you?"

Ignoring the pounding in her head and smiling gamely Robin said, "Great."

"How is Patrick?"

Robin exhaled slowly. "He's getting through. Treatment is getting a little more challenging but it'll be over soon and things will be back to normal."

He eyed her carefully, more interested in what she wasn't saying rather than what she was. "So listen - there's a meeting starting in ten minutes and I was wondering if I could tempt you with some chocolate chip cookies?"

"That's very kind" she began, "but I'm up to my eyeballs in charts" she told him waving her hand over the pile on her desk.

"Robin - you haven't been in a long and maybe coming back might be a good thing."

"Darren, really, I'm fine. The meetings were a huge help when I needed it but I'm doing fine without it."

He raised his eyebrow in a challenge. "Really."

"Really" She gave him a determined look.

"How long have you had the flu?"

She narrowed her gazed. "I don't have the flu" she lied, "I'm hungover. Patrick and I were out with friends last night. God Darren, not everything is a crisis. That's one of the the things that I hate about group" she snapped, "nothing is ever just okay - everything is always bad or a crisis or whatever."

He looked at her in surprise. "Wow - I had no idea you were so...angry" he told her softly.

"I'm not angry" she replied tightly. "I just don't feel the need to sit in a room with a bunch of other people these days, okay? I went there when I needed it and now I don't." Beads of perspiration clung to her forehead and her fingers curled around the edge of her desk to keep her upright.

He held up his hands. "I meant no offense and I won't make the mistake again. But let's cut the bullshit shall we? I'm no doctor but I know that you aren't hungover. And I'm not shrink but I can feel your anger coming off you in waves. It sounds like things are going as great as you want them to be going and you are hanging on for dear life. Do something today about the flu and you know the options that are available to you for everything else. Take care" He turned on his heel and left.

Furstration bubbled up inside her and picking her stapler she hurled it across the room before sinking on to her stool.

xxxxxx

Noah watched his son carefully as he balanced his fork in his left hand;the silverware caught the light as it quivered in his hand. Feeling his father's eyes on him, he looked up and met his gaze.

"It's not polite to stare."

Noah's cheeks tinged with a hint of embarrassment at being caught. "Sorry" he mumbled. "How are you?"

"Would you believe me if I said good?"

"That depends - are you telling the truth?"

Pushing his eggs around on his plate, Patrick leaned back against his chair and let out a small sigh. "For the most part I am" he admitted. "The radiation is kicking my ass and my appetite is nearly non-existant but Robin and I were out last night with Eric and Alexis and we had a great time. My hand was even steady enough to play some pool."

"That's great" Noah told him with a smile, trying to swallow down the pain in his heart.

His proud, cocky, talented son was becoming a shadow of his former self. And while the weight loss and evident fatigue bothered it, it was the tremor in his hand that hurt him. He had always felt his son's hands were some of the most talented to be found in any operating room and to watch him struggle to hold a fork gripped his heart.

"This sucks" Patrick said holding up his shaky hand, reading his father's thoughts. "It feels like my body is quitting on me but it's only temporary" he said confidently.

"Have you and Eric talked surgery?"

He shrugged. "Here and there. The tumor is still enlarged and so we're waiting for the radiation to do its job - well actually I think it's doing it's job now."

"Are you...do you still want him as your doctor?"

Patrick furrowed his brow. "Did you...did you say something to him?" he asked tightly, trying to keep his temper in check.

He shook his head. "Absolutely not. I just want to make sure you comfortable with him as your surgeon. I know how close you two are and it can be tricky-"

"It isn't" he interjected. "He's okay with it and I am too."

"How is Robin?" he ventured more carefully.

"She's great" he beamed. Just the mention of her name produced an involuntary smile. "She killed all of us in pool last night. She's paying for it today though - she's a little hungover but she's tough."

The disagreement he had with his son's girlfriend still echoed loudly in his ears. He had played it over and over again but still came to the same conclusion - he was not ready to destroy the last memories that Patrick had of his mother. It would acheive nothing and he did not share Robin's opinion that it would somehow let him off the hook. However, there were other things he could share. Afterall his son's opinion of him was already low.

"I know you have a lot on your plate Patrick but you need to watch out for her."

Patrick dropped his fork, a small shiver running down his spine. "What do you mean?"

"It's just...it's very easy to the caregiver to get lost in everything."

"I am not taking her for granted" he stated defensively, his temper rising up again.

Noah smiled kindly. "Sport, I have no doubt about that. I know you love her and would do anything for her."

"Then what are you getting at?" he snapped.

He nervously licked his lips and for a brief moment, stared into his coffee cup hoping it would provide the courage a glass of burbon used to. "I started drinking as your mom's situation got worse"

Patrick folded his arms across his chest and stared at his father, daring him to say something about his mother - to stray for the truth. It would give him the excuse he needed to let him have it. "Mom made you drink?"

"No. God, no. That was my choice Patrick but it wasn't like after your mom di-...after her surgery that I suddenly discovered alcohol."

He was confused by where his father was going with this conversation but was unwiling to let his defenses down. "What do you mean?"

"I mean it was...it was really lonely and terrifying taking care of your mom. As she got worse, so did my stress and my heartbreak" he admitted. "And so I would start with a nightcap, just a little something to take the edge off. And then on days off, I would have a drink in the mid-afternoon - telling myself that it was a pre-dinner cocktail. By the time your mother died I was a high funcitoning alcoholic."

It had taken him more than three years to finally tell his son the truth but he needed him to understand how far reaching the effect of an illness could be.

"Were you DRUNK when you operated?" he hissed, leaning forward.

"NO! Absolutely not Patrick" he told him earnestly. "When I say high functioning, I mean that I would not drink when I was working but then would slip into a bad pattern when I wasn't. When your mom - when Mattie died I went from high functioning to non-functioning."

"Is this your not so subtle way of telling me you think Robin might start drinking? Because she's not weak like you - she's strong and she believes in me"

Noah winced at his son's statement. Truth was rarely soft or gentle - it would be too hard to recognize it if it were. "Not at all Patrick. Drinking is my vice not Robin's. I'm just telling you so that you keep an eye on her. She loves you and wants you healthy - we both do. Just don't let her lose herself in you because it's not easy to come back from that."

Angered at the new information, at the new light in which he had to look at his father, he pushed his chair back and stood up. "I'm tired" he announced. "Thanks for breakfast but I need to head home." Grabbing his coat from the back of his chair, he slung it over his shoulders and without so much of a backwards glance, headed out of the diner.

Leaning back in his chair, Noah looked up at the ceiling and sighed. "That temper is all your doing Mattie" he said quietly. "Help me look after our boy."