Chapter 173

I should tell you

Running his tongue along the film pasted to the back of his teeth, Patrick groaned and reluctantly pried open his eyes. Slowly sitting up, he cradled his head in his hands and prayed for the pounding to pass quickly. His cheeks flushed crimson as his memory was flooded with a replay of the night before – his drunken declarations; his bold, uninhibited move in the kitchen; the first taste of Robin in weeks.

He glanced at his watch – 7:23 a.m. – it was still early and it was his day off. Lifting his head, he saw his shirt neatly folded on the table and smiled. He hated being taken care except when it was Robin doing it. Reaching out, he took hold of the shirt and shook out the folds. Getting to his feet, he paused for a moment to gather his bearings before slipping on the shirt. Sinking back down, he grabbed his socks and shoes and pulled them on.

Neatly folding the duvet, he placed it on the end of the couch. He retrieved his wallet from the table and stuck it in his back pocket. Running his hands over his face he blew out his cheeks while making a solemn vow to never touch Jack Daniels or Jagermeister again.

"You weren't thinking of sneaking out, were you?"

Startled, he slowly turned around and offered a sheepish smile. "No…I…uh….well I just…"

With her robe wrapped tightly around her, she leaned against the doorway to the living room and shook her head. "You really were thinking of sneaking out."

Something in her tone caused him to bristle and narrowing his eyes, he responded. "Actually the only thing I'm thinking of right now is that I'm desperate need of coffee."

Her mouth twitched into a dry smile as she pulled herself away from the doorframe. "Great, me too. Let me put some on." Leaving him staring after her, she padded to the kitchen.

Flopping back down on the couch, he closed his eyes and wondered to himself when simple things got to be so difficult.

She returned to the living room carrying two large mugs of coffee and set his down in front of him before settling into the large chair and pulling her legs to her chest. It had been a mostly sleepless night for her; partially because her body remained on fire for hours after they kissed but also because she wanted them to get back on track but the only way to do that was to break the seal on all they had been avoiding.

Feeling the weight of the silence hanging between them Patrick sipped from his coffee before finally speaking. "I'm sorry about last night," he told her quietly.

"Sorry about which part?"

Looking at her quizzically, he replied, "About showing up here drunk in the middle of the night. Neither you nor the baby needed that last night and I'm sorry."

She nodded. "So, tell me about the woman you bought a drink for."

"Pardon?"

"You bought a drink for a woman last night, she dumped it on your head-"

He held up his hand. "I remember, I just don't understand your question."

"Tell me about her. What she beautiful? Older? Younger? Are you trying to move on?"

Exhaling loudly, he sat back against the cushions with both his hands wrapped around the mug. "Do you really want to do this while I'm fighting a hangover?"

"Well it seems you don't want to do this at all – you were ready to bolt for the door this morning and would have if I hadn't been up."

He arched his eyebrow, his accusatory tone matching hers. "Oh, so you're a mind reader now?"

"Who needs to read minds? I know you and running is what you do."

"Here we go" he muttered under his breath.

"What?" she challenged, "Are you saying it isn't what you do?"

Leaning over, he extended his hand to her. "Hello Pot, nice to meet you, I'm Kettle."

"I don't run" she stated unequivocally.

"No, you hide."

His heart was thumping loudly in his chest and his head pounded but they had started down a path and he wasn't willing to back off yet. Somewhere in his mind – in his heart – he knew they had to do this. If they were ever going to have a chance at reclaiming their relationship, this wound needed to be lanced. But sometimes, the cure can be as painful as the injury.

"You've been hiding from me from the very beginning," he accused.

Her brown eyes flashed furiously as the allegation hit its mark. "I have been more honest with you than almost anyone in my life."

Patrick shook his head. "That's not possible. Because there are people in your life who know more about you than I do. There are people in your life that you confide in but not me. You get scared, you get hurt and you tell OTHER people but you don't tell me. I'm left fumbling in the dark and every time I think I find the light switch you move it. You've never trusted me."

An audible gasp escaped from the back of her throat and with a shaky hand she set her coffee mug down on the table. "That's not true – I trusted you – until you started withholding."

"Pardon me?" he spluttered.

"Do you realize you never – not once – told me about your tumour? Do you have any idea how many nights I stayed up searching journals and talking to colleagues trying to take the symptoms I knew you had and piece them together? In the end you still didn't tell me – it was Eric. You never told me about the seizures until you had one in front of me."

It was as though having suddenly found her voice, she was unable to stop herself from letting loose the tsunami of emotions that had been bottled up inside her. There are things she needed to say and she was well aware that nothing ever stayed the same once the truth was revealed but there was little point in keeping things as they were.

"You didn't tell me about how bad the tremors were or that you took a Botox injection. There was nothing about your illness that you shared with me that I didn't first find out from someone else. So don't you dare – don't you dare sit there and tell me that I've been hiding when you've been doing the exact same thing."

"Well it was a little hard to tell you that I had the exact same disease that killed my mother when you were barely holding it together" he snapped.

Robin's eyes narrowed angrily. "Great. So that covered the first couple of weeks – how do you explain the rest of the time? You tried to throw me out of the room in Scotland when you had a seizure! Patrick at every turn of your illness you pushed me aside. I had to fight to be with you because you kept pushing me away and when you couldn't push me away hard enough you ran away!"

"I wonder where I learned that from?" he asked, getting to his feet and starting to pace.

It was though the conversation had released toxins into his system and he needed to move around to get them out. He didn't want them to settle – he didn't want to remain infected.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means you have always held me at arm's length Robin – always. You told me once that Stone was off-limits – you weren't willing to discuss your past at all with me."

"You know everything you need to know about Stone" she hurled. "He was my boyfriend, I loved him with everything I had and he died."

"NO! That isn't all there is to know. He infected you! He changed the course of your life forever and you don't talk about that. You don't talk about your health – you don't talk about any of it."

"You shut up about Stone"

"Why?"

She jumped to her feet, pounding her finger against her chest. "You don't think I knew he infected me? You don't think I know that? I know that my life would be different if he hadn't – if we hadn't had unprotected sex. But that ship sailed a long time ago and there is nothing I can do about. You play the cards you're dealt with Patrick and these are the cards I have."

"So you don't hate him?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest.

"NO!"

"And he didn't push you away after he found out he exposed you?"

"No" She moved to the far side of the room, putting as much distance between them as possible.

"Then why did you push me away?"

Her head spun and she asked in bewilderment, "What?"

"The minute – the very minute that condom broke – you put a gulf between us. You moved yourself out of reach emotionally and I have had to claw the rocks trying to get back to you."

"Shut up" she hissed.

"Why? Is it not true?"

"You have NO idea – NONE – of what it's like to live with this. To know that I could possibly give this to someone else? There are days that knowledge nearly makes it impossible to get out of bed. So I'm sorry if I was a little distant," she spat, "after the condom broke but it was hard to get close to you when reality was crushing the air out of me. You have no idea what it's like to life with HIV."

Patrick glared at her, speechless, for several beats. "I don't know? I don't know what it's like to live with HIV? I may not have the virus Robin but let me tell you – every sniffle, every cough, every cold – every minor change in your health and I feel like my heart is going to stop beating. I look down the road and I can see the day when you come back from a doctor's appointment and the news won't be 'everything's fine'. It will be the nightmare appointment – the one where we find out we are out of options. And yet there is nothing – NOTHING – I can do." Hot, angry tears, tumbled down his face. "Do you have any idea how helpless I feel? How utterly helpless? I may not have the virus but I live with HIV Robin and for you to suggest otherwise…" his voice trailed off.

Her face registered the shock of his admission and her knees trembled in response. "Then maybe you would prefer someone who didn't have the virus"

Picking up his half-empty coffee mug, he hurled it towards the kitchen. The ceramic shattered as it hit the floor and the rich, dark, liquid left a trail down the wall. "I DON'T WANT ANYONE ELSE" he yelled. "I WANT YOU!"

As though all the air had suddenly escaped from her body, Robin sank, deflated, on to the arm of the couch. The tears, which she had valiantly been keeping at bay, were closer to falling.

Patrick rubbed his hands over his face. "Robin, I am so sorry" he told her quietly but earnestly. "I never…I shouldn't have thrown the mug."

She shook her head. "I don't care about the mug" she said quietly. "We're both really angry" she observed with a bitter laugh.

"Yeah" he agreed with a ragged breath.

"If I…" her voice trailed off and she sucked in a breath. Her entire body was shaking as they both revealed more about themselves than they likely had intended to do. "If I tell you that I can't talk any more today, will you believe me that I'm not trying to push you away?" Her tone was quiet but hopeful.

He nodded. "I do because…I feel like I just went ten rounds with Tyson."

She smiled tiredly. "At least I didn't bite your ear."

Patrick smirked in response. "I'll clean up the-"

Robin shook her head. "I'll get it. I just…I need to be alone and kind of process all of this."

He understood exactly what she meant. He was suddenly exhausted and wasn't sure he could hold a conversation with anyone if his life depended on it. Walking to the door, he curled his hand around the knob pausing when he felt Robin's hand on his back.

"We've said a lot today but we're not done" she told him quietly.

He studied her carefully. "The conversation or us?" he asked.

"Both."