Chapter 93

But I fear I have nothing to give
I have so much to lose

Patrick kept his eye on his friend as he moved about the room, making chart notations and checking his progress. Eric, one of the most forthright people he had ever known, was having difficulty looking him in the eye. He was not sure what he had done but surely he had hurt his friend or offended him in some way.

The frustration at not being able to recall the last six months was never far from reach and it was beginning to boil up again as he struggled to figure out what he had done to make Eric so uncomfortable around him.

Noticing a rise in his heart monitor, Eric's head shot up from the chart. "You okay Patrick?"

He shook his head.

Closing the chart, Eric reached for the white board and passed it to him. Patrick slammed it down on the bed in frustration. It had been five days since his second surgery and he had managed to acquire exactly three words – Dad, you and no – everything else either came out in gibberish if it came out at all. He had a non-stop dialogue in his head but there was no one who could understand him and it was making him feel claustrophobic. His lost memories only compounded the feeling.

"Patrick I know it's frustrating but your speech will come back," he told him doing his best to reassure him. "Now that you're stable, we'll bring in a speech pathologist and he'll work with you to get your words back."

Snapping up the pen in exasperation, Patrick scribbled on the board.

What about my memory? When does that come back?

Eric grimaced and tried to push down the feelings of failure that seemed to cover him like a blanket. "I'm working on it Patrick."

I need you to answer to 2 things

Eric looked at him curiously, ignoring the knot forming in his stomach. "Shoot" he said evenly.

Patrick cleared the board and wrote:

Are you upset with me?

Blowing out his cheeks, he covered his mouth with his hand. How could he explain to him the overwhelming disappointment that he had not had better results from the surgery? He didn't have the words to tell him that he was embarrassed at having let him down.

Swallowing thickly, he shook his head. "No. God no. I'm just…I'm trying to…I'm working on making you well again and that's got my head pretty full. We're cool."

Patrick smiled. Clearing the board, he wrote his second question.

Am I HIV+? The truth

"Oh dude" Eric sighed. "You don't remember that either?"

Shaking his head, he tapped his pen insistently against the word truth. He was willing to be patient on some aspects but not on others and he wanted – he needed – to fully understand what he was dealing with.

Sitting down on the corner of the bed, Eric looked him straight in the eyes. "No you aren't. You tested negative – you're in the clear."

He let out a breath and blinked rapidly as his eyes welled with tears. He was okay – at least on that front. His memory was flooded with remembrances of the sheer terror he had felt in those early days after cutting himself in the OR. He had tried to put on a brave front, had tried to reassure everyone that it was no big deal but it had been an exceptionally big deal. That time had also been a gift in some ways. It had allowed him to see the people in his life for who they really were. It has also clarified his feelings for Robin. He hadn't fallen in love with her because she had stood by him but her standing by his side and leading him by example had confirmed to him that he could not imagine a life without her.

Several tears trickled down his cheeks and he wiped furiously at them.

"You okay Patrick?" Eric asked gently.

He nodded. "Y-y-yes" he stammered.

The corners of Eric's mouth turned up into a small smile. "That's great – the words are coming back."

He opened his mouth to speak again but his tongue would not cooperate with what his brain wanted to do. Aggravated, he picked up the board and wrote again.

Do Robin and my dad know I'm HIV-?

Eric nodded. "They were both very pleased and relieved for you" he reassured him.

I HATE THIS!!

"Me too buddy" he answered tightly. "I hate it too."

They both turned their heads towards the door as they heard it swing shut but there was no one there.

"Probably a nurse" Eric said, rising to his feet. "Listen, I'll be back in a few hours after your physio session to see how things are. Hang tough, okay?"

Nodding, he held out his fist and gave a small smile as Eric punched knuckles with him. Watching him as he walked out the door, he shook his head. His friend was working really hard not to come apart at the seams and he was at a loss as to how to help him.

xxxx

Throwing open the front doors of the hospital, Robin gulped in the cold March morning air as she tried not to give into the desperation that was threatening to drown her.

She had gone to Patrick's room with bagels from the Bread and Roses bakery he had taken her to but stopped at the door when she heard Eric's voice.

You tested negative. You're in the clear

He didn't remember. One of the most honest and real nights they had spent together and he didn't remember. It was a night where she finally understood that he was not okay with her being HIV+ but he was okay with her, he had separated her from her disease. It had been the gift of a lifetime.

"I don't want to celebrate" he replied simply.

"Why not?"

Taking her hand, he placed it, palm down, against his own and lightly trailed his fingertips across it. He loved the feel of her skin - it was smooth and warm and soothing. Inhaling sharply, he dove in. "It feels wrong to celebrate."

"Because of the tumour?"

"Because of you"

Robin recoiled slightly. "Wh-what? What do you mean?"

His fingers traced a continual pattern over her hand. "It..it would be wrong" he began cautiously. "It would be wrong to celebrate not having something that you do. I don't want to celebrate being negative."

"Patrick-"

"I mean it Robin" he interjected, "I'm relieved that I'm negative but I don't want to celebrate."

"Patrick I am really, truly happy for your results."

"I know" he assured her. "And I love you for it. I never would have made it through those early, dark moments without you telling how to put one foot in front of the other but it makes me sad that you'll never get to hear what I heard today."

Her eyes welled with tears as she wondered how she could have ever doubted that he wouldn't understand her conflicting feelings. He swiped with his thumb at the first tear that had snuck down her face.

"In Alan's office I felt relief and happiness for a moment" he confessed, "but then I just felt weird. Alan told me it was probably because of how my focus is on something else right now but I knew even then that it was because you never got that moment. You never had the options I had and I so wish that had been available to you."

Shaking her head, she flashed him a watery smile. "You never cease to amaze me" she told him.

"How's that?"

"In the first few months that I knew you, I told myself in my head and told you out loud more than once that you had the depth of a mud puddle but really, it was just an act. You are more caring and compassionate than anyone would ever guess and I love you more every day for it."

Momentarily stunned, he pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. "If I'm that way " he whispered against her ear, "it's because you make it okay for me to be like that."

The cold air seared her throat as she continued to greedily gulp the fresh air hoping it would somehow lessen in the pain in her heart. He had to remember. He simply had to. She could not be the only with the memories.

What would it mean in the long run if he could not recall the moments that had deepened her love for him? How could their relationship survive if so many of the blocks on which it was built did not exist for him? It was hard enough to cope with his limited communication, she could not handle both.

It was not an option for him to forget.

Inhaling sharply, she straightened her shoulders and turned back to the hospital doors. She was going to find a way.

xxxx

Eric's head snapped up as the door to his office was pushed open.

"Where are we on alternative treatments for the memory loss?" Robin asked as she sailed through the door.

Leaning back in his chair, Eric tiredly dragged his hand through his hair. "Pardon me?"

"We haven't discussed alternative treatments in a few days and I'm wondering where we are at? Have your colleagues offered anything?"

"No – nothing that's useable" he replied as his fingers tightly gripped a pen.

"Well what are you doing about it?"

They were both operating on little sleep and high anxiety. The stakes were high for both but neither felt the other understood how high.

He clenched his eyes shut and mentally counted to five. Finally opening his eyes, he answered. "I'm looking into it."

"Look harder" she snapped.

"Excuse me?" he asked, his blue eyes wide in disbelief.

"Eric, it's been five days – FIVE! The longer he goes without his memory of that time, the harder it's going to be to ever get them."

He slammed his fist down on the desk in frustration. "Don't you think I know that? Goddammit Robin, I am doing everything I can."

"Then do more – or get someone else in to help you."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he hissed. "Do more? What more do you think I can do? I can't just pull a solution out of thin air."

She did not even flinch at the noise that echoed through the office. "No, I'm not fucking kidding you," she shot back. "What about another look around in his brain-"

"If you mean another surgery, it is out of the question. Every time I go in I risk further damage so we are not going back in unless we have to."

"You've always been cautious" she accused. "Ever since he was diagnosed."

"And you've always been sniping. Look, I get that you are pissed and sad and torn up about everything your boyfriend has been through but I am not going to change my approach just so you can feel better. Do you have ANY idea how difficult this is?"

"Do you have any idea how difficult it is for the rest of us Eric? We don't all get to be detached from it."

"Detached?" he scoffed. "So when I was in here puking up my guts and you were telling me that you understood, that was me being detached?"

Blowing out her cheeks, she took a step back. "Look, Eric I know you are doing the best you can but maybe you need help. I just don't want your….ego…. to stop you from asking for help."

"My ego?" he repeated in disbelief. "My ego. Robin, I would crawl on broken glass to the feet of the person I despise most in this world if I thought it would help Patrick. Don't you dare accuse me of not doing enough."

Helplessness welled up inside her and started to seep from her. Her knees trembled as she stood in front of him. Intellectually she knew it wasn't his fault but she needed someone to blame – someone had to be responsible because then it meant there would be some control over the situation, there would be a chance not to feel useless.

"I'm sorry" she told him tearfully. "I know you're trying but….I HATE this!" she exclaimed.

It was like a knife through his heart as she echoed what Patrick had said earlier. He was awash in failure.

"Robin, I-"

"You said you would fix him Eric. So fix him" Fearing she might implode if she stayed where she was, she turned on her heel and bolted for the door.

Eric watched powerlessly as she escaped from his office; rage coursed through his veins. Gripping the edge of his desk and with a mighty yell, he flipped it over before driving his fist into the wall.

Cradling his wrist against his chest he stumbled to the couch and sank down under the weight of so many expectations, the heaviest being his own. Closing his eyes, he let his head rest on the back of the couch and sighed.

"Looks like I got here just in time" Alexis said, standing in the doorway