Chapter 92

I believe in the love you gave me

As he let out one long breath after another, Patrick sank back into his pillows and stared up at the ceiling. He had asked everyone to leave, to give him a few minutes by himself to try and process what he had been told.

It had been two days since he had awakened in the hospital bed post-surgery and he had finally managed to get some of the details filled in. Hearing that he had a meningioma nearly stopped his heart. That he had faced the same obstacles his mother had but was living to tell the tale was a shock. Eric had proceeded gently and cautiously in feeding him the information about his condition but that had done little to stop a cold sweat from forming on his forehead. Both his father and Robin stayed by his side, offering support and reassurance at every step but he still felt like he was free falling.

When Eric had described the size and placement of his tumour, he looked questioningly to his father, who nodded and answered the question, telling him it was very much like the tumour his mother had. . He remained amazed at the sense of peace he felt when he thought of him. For a long time, even as the rage and anger over his father's choices had started to dissipate he could always feel echoes of it in his heart but now when he looked at him, it was as though it was all gone. The fine lines around his father's eyes, the new smattering of grey hairs threading through his thick black hair told him that his father had been to hell and back once again and he was devastated at being the cause.

And if his father had been to hell, then he could barely fathom what he had put Robin through. He had studied her carefully, trying to see the effects on her but her walls were up. She had been smiling brightly and confidently telling him this was only temporary but he knew her well enough to know that she was, once again, trying to bend the universe to her will. In all the time that he had known her – which as it turned out was apparently longer than he realized – he had come to recognize the changes in her when she was preparing for battle. She would get a defiant look in her eye, almost daring anyone to tell her that things were not going to be fine. She had the strongest resolve of anyone he knew and it was apparent to him that she had decided it was all going to work out and now everyone needed to get with the program.

It worried him.

She was being brave and strong and keeping her fears and concerns well under wraps – as though she was afraid for him to see them. Had she shared her fears about him before and had he done something as a result. Frustration was bubbling up inside of him. He knew he had hurt her but he did not know how. How could he make it right, reassure her of his love for her, if he did not know what he had done?

And then there was Eric. His friend was wound tighter than a drum and looked stretched beyond his limits. There was clearly more to the story but Eric wasn't about to share it with him just yet.

The three people who mattered to him – the only people who mattered to him – were wearing scars that he caused.

He was missing six months of his life. Six months. When he closed his eyes he tried to clear his mind and focus on those months. He needed to – he had to – fill in his own blanks. He wanted the truth however unvarnished and ugly.

There were glimpses of moments: he saw dancing and a castle, there was an image of Robin on a stage speaking, a flash of a party but they all dangled so irritatingly out of reach. The more he tried to concentrate on them, to focus on the memory, the further it got from his sight.

He slapped his hands down on the bed. It felt as though all control was slipping from his grasp and it made him want to scream. Of course that was the other gift he was dealing with; he could not make himself understood. His wit and ability to banter had been his trademarks for a long time. He had charmed his way in to and out of situations his entire life with just the right comment but that wasn't available to him right now and he felt rudderless. Writing out answers and questions was a poor substitute for a real conversation and with no ability to speak in any meaningfully way, he was trapped inside his own head. It felt very much like being locked inside the trunk of a car.

The prospect of speech therapy left him feeling disheartened. A high achiever his whole life, the mere idea that he would need someone to teach him to do something so basic as speaking was almost more than he could bear.

There was another question that rattled around his brain but he did not know who to ask. They were all so fragile, so perilously close to the edge that he feared the answer would send one or all of them tumbling down.

Was he HIV positive?

While he had no memory of his final test or the results he knew they had been given. He would have been told somewhere around Christmas. There was little evidence that he was on a course of anti-retrovirals but it could be yet another piece of information they were withholding until they felt him strong enough to deal with it.

What had Robin said when they got the news? Was he positive? Was he negative? Was she okay with the results? He was half tempted to get himself out of bed and wander to the Nurses Station in search of his chart but Eric had mentioned something about putting him in soft restraints if he got out of bed unaccompanied. Obviously he had already tried that once.

Grabbing hold of his water cup, he hurled it across the room in a flash of anger. He had never been in the position of not being able to trust himself. In truth, for so long as an adult it was the only thing he did trust in.

xxxx

"So what's next?" Robin asked perfunctorily as she looked from Eric to Noah and back again.

Eric sighed heavily and shook his head. "I'm going to keep looking at alternative treatments but I think we need to prepare ourselves that he may never regain his lost memories."

"No!" Robin told him sharply. "Giving up is not an option."

"Robin, sweetheart," Noah began gently trying to defuse the rising tension in Eric's office, "no one is talking about giving up but Eric is talking about being realistic."

She folded her arms across her chest and shook her head. "I don't accept that. Maybe if I wasn't also a doctor I would but I know that there are options. And until we explore every one of them I am not accepting shit."

Both men looked at her in surprise, the tension dissipating and Noah chuckled. "I think that might be the first time I've ever heard you swear"

Smiling in spite of herself, she shook her head. "What can I say; I have a little potty mouth."

"I'm not giving up" Eric said, still stoney faced. "I'm still working for the optimal result."

"I know" she told him softly. "But I'm going to keep pushing because I have to. I've placed calls to a couple of colleagues in France and they are also looking at options to see what else can be done."

There was nothing she would not do, no length she would not go to in an effort to help Patrick. He would remember the last six months, she had to believe that. If for no other reason she did not want to be the only one with the memories they had created during that time. She needed him to remember too.

"I'll be interested in their findings" Eric replied tightly.

He was close to snapping and didn't know how much more he could take before he did. He had not been home in three days, living instead in his office as he poured over journals and text books and sent emails to friends and colleagues scattered around the world hoping someone, anyone, would have a solution for him. He could not help but believe that he had failed his friend in some way. Patrick had entrusted his health to him and he had not delivered in the way he expected to.

Noah looked from one to the other and could not decide who would be the first to break. One was feeling defeated and having a hard time to see the way forward; the other was almost disturbingly optimistic in her outlook.

He felt hopeful about what was to come but recognized the road ahead was bumpy and there were potholes everywhere. For him, it was about keeping an even keel and helping Patrick do the same.

Unable to sit still a moment longer, Robin rose to her feet and grabbed her purse. "I told Patrick I wouldn't be gone longer than half an hour so I'm going to head back. Let me know if you find anything."

She slipped outside the door and started down the hall but stopped as she heard Noah call to her. Impatiently, she turned around. "Yes?"

"Robin I don't mean to pry but are you…are you taking care of yourself?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Have you asked Eric the same thing?"

He did a double take at her sharp tone. "Pardon me?"

"I asked you if you asked Eric the same thing or are you only chasing after me because you think I'm fragile?"

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he leaned against the wall and took a breath before speaking. "Robin, I cannot think of single person who would think you fragile and I'm sorry if it came across that way. But I won't apologize for checking on you. Your health is as important as Patrick's."

Her face softened immediately and she shook her head apologetically. "Noah, I am so sorry for snapping at you. I guess I'm just… I'm-"

"You're exhausted" he finished for her. "You haven't had a full night's sleep in days. So I'd like you to promise after your visit with Patrick that you will head to Eric's apartment and sleep for a few hours."

"Are you getting parental on me?" she asked as her lips curved upwards in a small smile.

"Maybe" he replied with a grin.

Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed his cheek. "Thank you" she told him quietly. "I appreciate it and I promise I will get some sleep shortly."

"Good. Tell Patrick I'll be in to see him in a while."

She nodded and headed back down the hall to his room. She would rest when she was sure he was okay.

xxxx

Emerging from his bathroom carrying a small bowl of hot water, Robin smiled at him. "Are you ready for me?" she asked as she approached his bed.

Patrick nodded.

Setting the bowl down on the table, she opened her purse and pulled out a razor and a small can of shaving cream. Drenching a facecloth in the steaming water and wringing it out, she carefully placed it over his beard.

"Are you sure you want this off?" she asked teasingly. "'Cause I'm thinking the scruff might work for you."

Narrowing his eyes, he furrowed his brow and started to reach for the razor.

"Okay, okay" she laughed. "Your wish is my command."

Peeling the facecloth from him she set it on the table. She filled her hand with shaving cream and gently applied it over his cheeks and chin. As she removed the plastic cover from the razor and turned to start, she realized her height was going to be a disadvantage. It was impossible for her to reach across him to the other side. Setting the razor down, she climbed on to the bed and straddled his lap.

"Much better" she told him, pulling the table within reach. "Now I have no excuse not to do a perfect job."

Patrick brought his hands to rest on either side of her hips and tenderly stroked his thumbs along her waist. He looked at her intently as her eyes misted over.

"It's just nice" she explained quietly, "to be touched by you again." She quickly wiped her eyes and smiled as she held up the razor. "Last chance to back out"

He gave a small shake of his head.

"I don't blame you" she joked. "It's sad when you have more hair on your face than your head." She laughed as he growled in response.

He kept his eyes locked on her the entire time as she cautiously removed his beard. His hands traveled along her back and down her legs as she rinsed the razor and continued to shave off all remnants of his facial hair. It was an intimate moment and one that he was not ready to see end.

She towelled off the leftover shaving cream and smiled at the results. "You look….you look like yourself again" she told him softly, unexpectedly overcome as she did so.

As she made a move to get off the bed, Patrick held on to her. She looked back at him and grinned as he tapped his lips. Leaning in, her hands on his chest, she closed her lips over his with infinite tenderness and kissed him.

He ran his hands along her back and pulled her closer to him, he wanted the kiss to go on forever. There was much he was not sure of at the moment but everything he needed to know could be found in their kiss.

Robin slowly pulled away and stared at him with loving reverence. "I love you Patrick forever and for always."

He threaded his fingers through her hair as he softly kissed first one cheek and then the other before returning to her lips. He exhaled softly as he ended the kiss. He was exhausted again but did not want to let go of her. Opening his mouth to speak, his lips fumbled to form the words and he sighed in frustration as he could not get the word out.

Robin ran her thumb along his bottom lip trying to alleviate his stress. "Do you need something?"

He nodded.

"Do you want the white board?" she asked, moving to reach for it.

He pulled her back to him and shook his head.

"What is it baby? What do you need?"

Closing his eyes, he swallowed thickly and tried once again.

"Y-y-you"