Chapter 118

'Cause you're working at building a mystery
Holding on and holding it in

Patrick watched curiously from bed as Robin pulled a soft cotton tank top over her head before stepping into a pair of shorts. It was not often that either of them slept in any kind of clothing. Even at the Hamptons after a few nights they had reverted back to how they normally slept and in light of the strained expression on her face when she came through the door earlier in the evening, he was very curious as to what was going on inside his girlfriend's head.

Even with her back to him, she could feel his eyes on her. This was one thing that was very different from her previous protocol change – she hadn't been sharing a bed with anyone then and the only person she needed to consider through all of it was herself. Taking a long, slow deep breath, she turned around and smiled at Patrick as she crawled on the bed.

"You must be so excited about Eric moving here" she said as she snuggled into him.

Patrick nodded, wrapping his arms around her. "Y-yes," he agreed. "Sh-should be fun."

Robin swept her hand across his bare chest bringing it to rest, as she always did, over his heart. She dropped a small, soft kiss on his skin and laid her head on his shoulder.

Despite her initial reservations upon seeing Alexis and Eric in the apartment, she had insisted they stay for dinner and notwithstanding all that was going on in her head, she had a good time. They laughed a lot and at Eric's suggestion they played a few hands of Asshole. His excuse was that it was Patrick's favourite word. Alexis had kept a close eye on her and deftly brought the evening to a close when she felt that everyone had had enough.

Patrick nudged his lips against hers and kissed her lightly. He threaded his fingers through her hair and gently coaxed her lips apart with his tongue before plunging it into the warmth of her mouth. Robin moaned quietly as his tongue duelled lazily with hers. As he tugged her on top of him, she dropped her head back giving him access to her neck. Patrick's lips brushed against her ear lobe and then her jaw as he worked his way down the slope of her neck. Shivers ran through her body as he made small patterns with his tongue in the hollow of her neck.

She was so lost in the feeling that his kisses gave her she had not noticed his hands slipping inside her shorts until she felt his fingers curl inside of her. As panic welled up inside her, she batted his hand away and slid off of him.

Patrick looked at her in shock and dropped his hands to his side. "Wh-what's wrong?" He was confused at the sudden turn of events. He had felt her body responding to him and was at a loss to explain her slamming on the breaks.

Robin said nothing for several moments. What could she say? The truth was she would need to tell him about the change in her protocol before they were intimate again. His exposure to HIV would be increased as they worked to find the right combination of drugs for her and she could not let him have sex with her until she told him. The decision to be intimate with her had to be a fully informed one. The only problem was she wasn't ready to have that conversation just yet.

"I…uh…" she exhaled softly, "I don't feel like having sex tonight." Her cheeks flushed bright red as she said so.

Stymied yet again by his inability to speak in complete or full sentences, Patrick reached for his board.

Is there a particular reason why?

Upset with herself and furious at her circumstances his question provided just the outlet she needed for her anger. "Does there need to be a reason?" she snapped. "Or can your ego not accept that I don't want to get it on with you every waking moment?"

Patrick recoiled against the pillow. "R-robin" he called to her gently.

I'm okay not having sex he wrote, but I am worried that you're upset about something. You looked unhappy when you came home.

"So, what – you think if you soften me up I'll tell you?" She regretted the words the moment they left her mouth. Bringing her hands to her face she took one serrated breath after another trying to calm down. "I'm sorry" she whispered.

Reaching out to her, he gently took her hands away from her face. His brown eyes were filled with worry as he tried to catch her eye. "Wh-what's g-g-going on?"

It was right there; the perfect opening to tell him. But as she opened her mouth the words disappeared back down her throat and she sighed, blinking away the tears that seemed omnipresent.

"Love you" Patrick reminded her. You can tell me anything.

Chewing on her bottom lip, she sucked in a breath and dove into his arms. Patrick held her tightly and pressed his lips to the top of her head.

"Every once in a while" she began hoarsely, "it just gets to me. All of it – you being sick, my HIV- it just feels overwhelming."

Tangling his legs through hers, he pulled her as securely to his body as he could and stroked her hair. And just as he did in the hospital, he drew an I, a heart and a U against her back. As he soothingly rubbed her back he felt her breath lengthen as she drifted of to sleep. He also knew there would be no sleep for him. There was something going on with his girlfriend, something beyond what she was telling him. She was going to need his help to get through it and if she wouldn't tell him what it was, he would find out on his own.

He pulled the blankets higher up around her shoulders and stared at the ceiling. There were so many obstacles in his way to getting her to open up. His lack of memories and his difficulty with speech were compounded by the reality that she didn't trust him. His tumour and all that had followed had shaken her confidence in him, it had challenged her belief that he could be counted on. Illness did that to people. Once you were identified as sick, people in your life made all kinds of assumptions about what you could and could not deal with, what you could and could not participate in; they made assumption on whether or not they could rely on you to come through for them when they needed it. He had seen it happen between his father and his mother. In truth his father started to spiral out of control when he realized that his wife was no longer his partner but rather someone he had to care for. And it was exactly what he had become to Robin. If he was going to change it then he at the very least he needed to remember what had happened in the last six months.

Seeing she was sound asleep, he carefully disentangled himself from her and pushing back the covers swung his feet to the floor. He reached for a t-shirt and slowly padded out of the bedroom as he pulled it over his head.

Flicking on a table lamp in the living room, he walked slowly along the bookcase looking for hints or clues to the missing pieces. He stopped in front of a double picture frame and smiled as he saw the photos of his parents dancing and he and his mother on Christmas Day with the racetrack. He stared at them, willing his memory to come back and remind him if he had told Robin the story about the racetrack.

Getting little, he moved to the next shelf and chuckled to himself as he saw the Christmas ornament with a picture of him mooning the camera with a Santa hat on his hip, perched in the corner. Picking it up, he traced his finger along the outline. The picture could have only come from one person and as he looked over his shoulder, glancing at the rest of the living room, he saw flickers of a party – popcorn streamers and a ceiling covered in mistletoe.

Placing the ornament back where he found it, he continued to walk around the room. Passing the window sill he saw a frame laid down on its face. Picking it up, he turned it over in his hands and looked at the photo with interest. It was a picture of the two of them and judging by the castle wall in the background, it was in Edinburgh. It must have been taken at Hogmanay. He stared at the picture trying to recall any of the feelings from that night and groaned in frustration when he was met with yet another blank. Placing the photo back where he found it, he suddenly noticed there were nearly a half dozen other photos all turned face down as well. Slowly picking them up one at a time, he felt a small chill run down the length of his spine as he discovered each photo was either of him or of he and Robin.

This was no accidental knocking over of a picture. This was a deliberate turning down of seven photos – as if they were too painful to look at.

Why had they been turned down? In each photo they looked happy and very much in love – what was it about the photos that made it difficult to look at them? For a brief moment he wondered if she had turned them down when they got home until she was sure his memory had come back. But dragging a finger along the glass and see the small build up of dust, it was clear they had been like that for quite some time.

If they had been truly happy right up until his surgery then why would Robin feel the need to hide reminders of their relationship from view? He had suspected for quite some time that he had done something to her in the months or weeks leading up to his surgery and now he was convinced. She had demurred every time he asked her and it was clear she was simply deflecting.

How had he hurt her? And was that the reason for her behaviour of late? He had somehow made it so she could not trust him. He had done something so terrible that she was keeping it from him to protect him. His heart ached at the idea that he caused her any pain at all.

Sinking into the couch, he ran his hands over his face and snarled angrily at himself. He needed answers. If he was ever going to get their relationship back on equal footing he was going to need the truth. Because the longer he went without it, the more damaging it was to Robin. She had fought for him through his illness; he knew it to be true even if he didn't remember it.

And now he was going to fight for her.