Chapter 94

When I cry, I close my eyes
And every tear falls down inside

Eric opened his eyes and stared in disbelief at the door. "Alexis" he said quietly. "Wh-what are you doing here?"

Gently pushing his office door closed, she stepped easily over the scattered papers and files strewn across the floor as she walked to the couch. "I think the question is what are you doing here? Redecorating?"

"You should probably go," he told her listlessly, wincing as he moved his wrist around.

Arching her eyebrow, she looked at him sceptically. "You must be joking." Finally making her way to the couch, she sat down beside him. "I'm not leaving you here like this."

Tracing her fingertip underneath his eye, she shook her head. "When was the last time you slept? Or went home?"

He took in a quivering breath and stared straight ahead. "It's been busy."

"I know" she replied softly. "I've left you a couple of messages and I never heard from you. I assumed things weren't very good. So tell me, how bad is it?"

He shrugged, almost petulantly. "He has aphasia. Often times it improves in the early days after surgery but given that he's only managed to get four words out, he's going to need intensive speech therapy. And he has no memory of the last six months."

Closing her eyes Alexis exhaled slowly. She could only imagine the affect this was having on all of them. Reaching for his hand that was still cradled against his chest, she began to tenderly massage it.

"I don't think it's broken," she said.

"No" he agreed. "I'm not talented enough to break it."

"I see," she mused. "So you're thinking that what's happened to Patrick is your fault and because you haven't yet found the solution to the problem – that you think you caused – you are going to beat yourself up along with the occasional innocent wall?"

Turning to look at her he found himself as close to falling apart as he had been since he was sick. "Why is everyone so convinced it isn't my fault?"

"Why are you so convinced it is?" she challenged.

Tipping his head back on the couch, he stared up at the ceiling and tried to think of another time when his body felt so heavy. Every limb felt encased in cement. "You don't understand."

Softly threading her fingers through his thick black hair, she pressed her lips to his cheek. "So explain it to me."

"I'm a failure" he said simply. "The advance notice of my ability was terribly overstated. My…." He sucked in a breath to steady himself. "My best friend was counting on me to make him better and I have failed."

"He's alive, isn't he?" she asked quietly. "And that wasn't a given when you started his surgery. Eric," Seeing his gaze still glued to the ceiling, she cupped his chin and turned his face towards her. "You got the tumour out, he's alive – he knows everyone in his life. Is it perfect, no? But I don't think by anyone's definition it's failure."

"Maybe someone should ask Patrick that" he suggested.

Years of working as a prosecutor had made her an expert in understanding what people weren't saying as much as what they were saying. It was clear to her that what was driving Eric's sense of failure came from a place deeper than just what was going on with Patrick but until he was ready to admit it to himself, he would not be able to admit it to her.

Rising to her feet she held out her hand to him. "Let's go home"

"I can't. I have to stay and…" his voice trailed off.

"Stay and what? Find the answer?" Shaking her head, she took his hand and pulled him reluctantly to his feet. "Eric, what Patrick needs most right now is for you to be rested and clear headed. You can't live in your office and work yourself into the ground. Perspective is easiest to come by when you can think clearly."

Too exhausted to fight, he entwined his fingers through hers, grabbed his coat from the back of his chair and let her lead him out.

xxxxx

Patrick looked curiously at Robin as she came barrelling into his room. There was something very off in her behaviour but any time he had tried to pin her down on it, she had wriggled out of it, assuring him she was fine.

If he could speak – like a normal person – he knew he would be able to get out of her, to push her into telling him but the white board and his limited vocabulary were exceptionally poor substitutes for a real conversation.

It was an odd position for him to be in. With the exception of a lack of stamina and some residual pain, he felt mostly fine; he had the occasional headache but nothing severe. It was the people around him who were the walking wounded. They had convinced themselves that he could not see what was going on around him and it made him want to scream. He wanted to yell at them and tell them that just because he had speech impediment did not mean he had a thinking impediment.

Robin dangled an envelope in front of him. "Uncle Mac just sent these overnight!" she beamed.

He raised his eyebrows.

"They're photos" she told him breezily, "from Christmas and New Year's. I was thinking maybe if you saw some photos that it might trigger some memories." She pulled the chair up close to his bedside and anxiously tore open the envelope.

He frowned slightly. He wanted to fill in the missing pieces, he was eager to know what happened over the last six months but he knew that a handful of photos were not going to bridge the gap in his memory. What was worse is that he knew that Robin knew it too. But she was desperate – frantic – for him to remember.

Taking the white board, which was never out of reach, he hastily wrote a note and passed it to her.

What did I do to you?

Taking the board, Robin read the note several times before meeting his gaze. "You loved me" she told him with a smile.

Snatching the board from her, he shook his head as he wrote again.

No. Something happened and you're not telling me. Did I hurt you?

Tipping out of her chair, Robin bussed his lips. "You could never hurt me."

Groaning in frustration he quickly erased his last message and replaced it with another.

I had a tumour. It can't have been all good.

"Patrick, please" she asked. "Don't stress yourself. We had some challenges but we had some really great times." She held up the pictures. "I thought we could go through these."

I'd rather you tell me what has you so wound up.

She scoffed. "I'm not wound up." Patrick angrily rolled his eyes. "I'm not," she insisted. "Baby, I just – I want you healthy and strong and I guess I'm a little impatient. But I'm fine, I promise."

Let's go for a walk he suggested. He hoped maybe if they could get out of his room, if he was away from the place that so loudly defined him as a patient, she might open up.

"I'm not sure you're up for it" she told him. "You had a pretty gruelling physio session today."

Angrily, he flung the white board across the room and glared at her.

"Nothing wrong with your pitching arm, I see" Noah remarked as he came in the room. The tension was palpable and he wanted to diffuse it before either of them went somewhere they did not want to go.

"How's it going today?" he asked as he picked up the board and placed it on the table. Patrick shrugged.

"He wanted to go for a walk," Robin explained, "but I think he's too tired from physio."

Noah curiously studied the look on Patrick's face and the way Robin was fidgeting with the photos in her hands. This was a train wreck waiting to happen and he had no clue if it was in his power to stop it.

Leaning against the arm of the other chair, he looked over at his son. "The Rangers are playing the Bruins tonight – do you want me to turn the game on?"

"N-n-no" he answered quietly.

"Have you given any thought on where you want to recuperate once you're released?" he asked. "If you keep progressing at the rate you are, I can't imagine you staying here more than a few more days."

"We'll go back to Port Charles" Robin answered quickly. "Marucci can take over his case and it'll be good for him to be surrounded by what he knows."

Though Robin did not see it, the frown on Patrick's face did not escape Noah's attention. Patrick took the board in his hands.

I am craving a chocolate bar. He wrote. Could you get me one?

Robin smiled brightly. "Of course" she agreed. Getting to her feet, she kissed him softly on the lips before heading out the door.

Noah waited until the door was closed before turning towards his son. "Everything okay?"

"No" he said clearly. "Ma…Mooor….gah!" he growled as his tongue got in the way. Uncapping the pen, he wrote:

Robin is in trouble. Big trouble. But she won't talk to me.

Noah grimaced as he read the note. There was a part of him that was relieved that his son recognized what was going on; it reassured him that his cognitive functions were good. But he was worried for him. And for Robin.

"Would you like me to speak to her?"

"Y-yes" Please he wrote.

"Okay Patty" he agreed softly. "I'll go take her for coffee and see what I can find out."

He tapped the board. I love her and need her to be okay.

Noah smiled. "I know."

xxxx

Fumbling with the keys, Eric finally managed to get the apartment door open. Still holding on to Alexis' hand he crossed the threshold bringing her in behind him. Shrugging off his coat and ignoring the throbbing in his wrist, he tossed it on the back of the couch before helping her off with hers.

They stood in the middle of the living room just staring at each other. The last few days had left him feeling as though he were drowning and he just wanted something good, something real to hold on to.

Reaching out, he cupped the back of her head and drew her to him as he closed his mouth over hers in a passionate, needful kiss. Alexis curled her fingers through his belt loops and moaned softly as his tongue swept inside her mouth, tangling with hers.

As they breathlessly broke apart, she took a step back and keeping her eyes locked on him, she unbuttoned her blouse and let it fall from her shoulders to the floor. So many times in the past she had tried to save the men in her life, rescue them from themselves. Or she tried to make herself into the person they needed her to be but it was different with Eric. He took her as he found her and what he needed from her right now was to be exactly who she was, because he had already shown her that she was enough.

He eyed her appreciatively and reaching behind his neck with one hand, pulled his black turtleneck sweater from his body and tossed it aside. Reaching again for her, he pulled her back to him and unclasped her bra as he nuzzled her neck. As he hands slid down her body, he hoisted her off the ground and she wrapped her legs around him.

Their mouths were fused together as he carried her upstairs to the bedroom. He gently laid her down on the bed as he let his hands roam her soft skin. He explored her body, his lips following where his hands had been and he began to feel the blood pumping through his veins.

She pushed him on to his back and sliding off the bed, stepped out of her skirt.

He started to unzip his jeans but stopped as Alexis crawled back on the bed and placed her hand over his.

"Let me" she said softly.

She slid them from his legs and tossed them to the side of the bed. She smiled as he reached for her, bringing her back to him. They laid on their sides, facing each other, their bodies rocking in unison. She whispered tiny kisses on his cheeks, his neck and his shoulders as he wondrously touched her body, being soothed by her heat.

As they built towards the precipice, he buried his face in her neck. Shuddering as he climaxed, Alexis held him tightly. His name tore from her lips as she followed him over the edge.

There was a hint of panic in his eyes as he looked at her. He was feeling vulnerable and unsure of his footing. When he tried to untangle himself from her, she shook her head.

"Alexis" he whispered.

She tenderly kissed his lips. "I'm right here." His eyes stayed locked on hers, his fingers trailing along her skin. As his breathing lengthened, she nibbled at his bottom lip. "You can say it again," she told him quietly, "I promise I won't run away."

He gave her a small smile as he kissed her. "I'm falling in love with you."

"Me too."

xxxxxxx

Standing at the vending machine, Robin recognized Noah's footsteps as he approached. "Did something happen?" she asked urgently.

"No. He's just drifted off to sleep so the candy bar can probably wait."

As the machine deposited her purchase in the slot below, she bent down and picked it up. "Maybe he'll want it when he wakes up." Slipping it inside her purse, she started to move past Noah but stopped as he gently put a hand on her arm. "I'm going to go sit with him"

"Let me buy you a coffee instead" he suggested.

There was something in his tone that told her declining was not an option. Agreeing with a shrug of her shoulders, she followed him to the cafeteria.

Noah suggested she take a seat and he would take care of the coffee. As she found a seat in the far corner of a place that was beginning to feel like a second home, she nervously twisted her purse strap in her hands.

She wondered what Noah wanted to speak with her about. She knew that she had perhaps been unfair to Eric and maybe he had heard about it. She would apologize for her choice of words but not for fighting for Patrick. He was going to get better, he was going to recover his memory and she did not care whose feelings she had to hurt in the process.

"I got us some cookies too" Noah said as he sat down across from her. "I know I probably should have bought fruit instead but the cookies seemed infinitely more appetizing."

Robin smiled gratefully as she broke off a piece of the chocolate chip cookie and popped it in to her mouth.

Never very good at beating around the bush, he just dove in. "Robin, is everything okay?"

"Why? Did Eric say something?"

He knit his brow together. "Eric? No. It's just…you seem very tense – more so than usual. Can I help?"

"Honestly Noah" she smiled gamely, "I'm fine. I'm a little tired like we all are but I just want Patrick to get better."

"We all do" he reminded her.

"I know that"

Sighing softly, Noah realized she was not that unlike his son. Both had spent decades building walls and when they put them up, they were nearly impenetrable. He decided to try a different track.

"Robin, I feel I need to caution you about speaking for Patrick."

Her brown eyes widened in shock. "Pardon me?" she asked tightly.

"Earlier, when I asked Patrick where he might like to recuperate, you answered for him."

"Noah, he can't answer for himself-"

"The thing is," he interrupted her, "he can. He may not be able to speak clearly but he can communicate and you have to let him do so."

"I don't understand. You think he's going to want to recuperate here after he gets out? Port Charles is his home-"

"And Eric is his doctor and his doctor is here. Maybe he wants to stay here or maybe he wants to go back to Port Charles but the decision is his. If he couldn't make the decision for some reason, then it would be mine to make."

She could feel her rage boiling up inside her. She was trying to look out for Patrick, to get him back to their life together and yet somehow she was continually being met with resistance. "Do you have a point?"

His face softened as he smiled kindly at the young doctor. He was trying to get her to articulate her fear or her worry – whatever it was that was eating at her – because until she did, it was going to chase her and run her into the ground. Conscious of her earlier health issues, he could not let that happen to her – Patrick needed it not to happen to her.

"My point is this. His inability to remember the last six months is difficult for all of us and as someone who went through the ringer because of him, I'm assuming it's especially painful for you. Robin, you don't have to keep it all together. It's okay to bend and flow with what's happening rather than being rigid and trying not to be knocked down."

"You act like you're okay with it but there's no way you can be" she accused. "He doesn't remember what he wrote to you Noah. Whatever sense of peace you got from that letter he wrote, he doesn't remember it. So stop trying to act like it's not a big deal. You're accusing me of denying my feelings but I think the only person denying things here is you." Her fury lashed across the table at him and he absorbed the blow undeterred.

"Robin, it doesn't make what he wrote any less true just because he doesn't remember it. He doesn't need to remember it for it to be true. I can do that for both of us until he does. And the same goes for you."

Frustrated, angry and heartbroken at it all, she pushed back her chair and rose to her feet. "Spare me your psychobabble Noah. My only interest is in getting Patrick better and I think that is better achieved in Port Charles surrounded by all that he knows and trusts. He will remember because I'm going to make sure he does. The rest of you may want to live and let live but he needs an advocate and that's me. I won't apologize for that."

Snatching her purse, she stormed from the cafeteria in search of any place where it didn't feel like the walls were closing in.

Leaning back in his chair, Noah dragged his hand over his face as he watched her leave. The cost of his son's illness had yet to be fully realized.