Chapter 175

Lay down your armour now and I'll come to you

Perspiration streaked down his face as he ploughed one fist and then the other into the bag. Much like when his father had been drinking and he felt helpless, boxing had become his release. As frustration built and knotted inside him, he would slip on the gloves and pound as hard as he could, for as long as he could until it passed or he dropped to his knees.

It had been five days since their conversation and he could not stop reliving it in his head; every word, every gesture, every sound. She had accused him of withholding from her and the plain truth was he had. From the very first tremor until his surgery he had held back from sharing it all with her and upon further reflection, he wasn't entirely sure why. At the time he had told himself and anyone who would listen that he did it for her and he used every milestone she was facing as a reason – her grief over April Gilbert's death, the Nurses' Ball, Christmas, Valentine's Day. If he had thought of it he probably would have used the Equinox too. And all the while, he was demanding that she be open and trusting in him when he was not able to meet the same expectation.

"I'm an ass" he grunted as he pounded the bag.

His head whipped around at the knock on the door. Peeling off his gloves he tossed them to the side and jogged across the loft and pulled it open. It was hard to tell who had the bigger shock – Patrick, face to face with a clearly glowing Robin or Robin, face to face with a sweaty, shirtless Patrick.

"Robin," he panted breathlessly, suddenly aware of his ratty old shorts and the perspiration dripping from him.

"I should have called."

He shook his head and took her hand. "No, come in – is everything okay?"

She smiled at him reassuringly. It was always the way with him – her welfare mattered and regardless of how angry or upset he was with her, she knew he still cared.

"I'm fine. I just… I was thinking since we're both off we could carry on our conversation from the other day." She shoved her hands in her pockets to keep from sweeping them across his well defined chest. "If…if you'd be okay with that?"

A small sense of relief washed over him. In his mind the only way for them to move forward was to keep talking but he had never been very good at starting conversations.

"I'd like that," he admitted. "Let me get changed. Do you want something to eat? Drink? There's stuff in the kitchen – you should just help yourself" he called over his shoulder as he climbed the stairs. He couldn't quite figure out if his knees were shaking because of the boxing or because of her, but either way he knew he needed a moment to collect himself.

Robin wandered into the kitchen and pulling down two glasses from the cupboard, poured some juice and carried them back to the living room. She had woken up this morning with an urge to talk – with a need to talk. It was as though having finally put some order to the thoughts in her head she was ready to continue. But being ready did little to diminish her nervousness.

Patrick came down the stairs, freshly showered, in a pair of battered jeans and a faded green t-shirt. He gratefully accepted the proffered juice and sat down on the other end of the couch.

"You're boxing a lot," she remarked, not quite ready yet to dive in.

He chuckled softly. "I think I might be addicted. You…you look great."

Blushing slightly, she tucked her hair behind her ears. "Thanks. I was thinking the same thing about you." She drained the juice, almost wishing it was something stronger and then turned to him. "You said we."

"Huh?"

"The other day when you were talking about my HIV," she clarified quietly. "You talked about the nightmare appointment where we find out we are out of options. You said we, like we're a team."

Leaning forward, he brought his elbows to rest on his knees. "I guess…I guess I think we are – were – are." He shook his head so unsure about the terminology he should be using. "Robin….when something happens to you, it happens to me. And it's been that way for long time – right back to the day you passed out in the locker room with the virus. I didn't know you that well but I….my…..I nearly stopped breathing when you went all limp and unresponsive."

The hazy memory replayed in her mind. He had been authoritative and commanding during that time. New to the hospital, he had bullied, cajoled, supported and pushed people into doing and giving everything they could. And when she fell sick he was by her side.

"If we are a team when it comes to my health," she began gently, "then why weren't we one when it came to yours? Why did you keep everything from me?"

Getting to his feet, he started to pace around the wide open space of the apartment. It was a simple question lacking a simple answer.

"I don't know" he admitted.

Having expected him to tell her it was for her protection, she was shocked by his revelation. The corners of her mouth twitched upwards into the briefest of smiles as she understood that he had been as full of introspection as she had. This could only bode well for them.

"No?" she queried gently.

"Well I mean…I have an idea but I don't know that it makes any sense."

"Try me" she encouraged.

He stepped around the furniture, rolling the idea around in his head. It was one of those thoughts that always seemed just slightly out of reach for conscious expression and he wasn't entirely sure how to explain it.

"I don't think I know how to share" he told her finally. "I think when I do it's more by accident than by design."

Not wanting to get in the way of what he was working up to, she said nothing. She wanted this revelation – they needed it and she was well aware of how scary it could be to lay yourself emotionally bare for another person but that's where they were at. Their future depended on it.

"I…I t-t-told you once that being a child of an alcoholic was an isolating experience. That you become a master of deception as you try to keep your two worlds separate and I think…I think in the process you learn to separate yourself from everything. And sharing means depending on another person – trusting they're going to be there."

"You don't think I'll be there for you?"

Biting hard on his bottom lip, he sank down on the arm of the large wingback chair. "The truth?"

"We need it," she reminded him.

"It's going to sound stupid."

"I promise not to laugh."

"I think maybe I was…I think maybe, in the back of my mind, I know there is going to be a day when you aren't there" His voice rasped, thick with emotion. "And maybe I try not to depend on you so much because if I do, if I get used to having your support and then you're not there…..I don't want to be my dad" he whispered. "I don't want to fall to pieces when you…."

"When I die?" she offered quietly.

Several stray tears trickled down his face and chewing on his bottom lip, he nodded almost imperceptibly.

Robin nervously wrung her hands together. There had been tentative conversations about mortality, often with a veneer of bravado but as their relationship deepened, the discussion of the subject stopped. It was as though the further in they got, the less they wanted to deal with it. But it formed part of their foundation; her mortality and his. What the future looked like both together and alone.

She stayed seated where she was, not quite trusting herself to stand. "Brenda told me that my biggest fear is not being left but leaving."

He blinked several times both to wash away the tears and to process what she had just said. His tongue darted from his mouth and swiped at his suddenly dry lips. "What do you mean?"

"I mean….It was easier, in a way, not to fall in love. I know what the future holds to a certain extent and while I don't fear death, I am uneasy about dying – about the process of slowly slipping away." Her lower lip quivered as she started to voice thoughts that had previously been denied. "If I didn't fall in love then the only people who would suffer really would be my family. And….I would miss them terribly because I love them so much but that's not the same thing as knowing that I am being forced to give up the man I love – that I'm leaving him behind to go on without me. And so I had mostly convinced myself that I wouldn't fall in love but I never counted on meeting you."

More tears streaked down Patrick's cheeks and he swiped furiously at them as he listened to her speak in her soft, rich voice. Robin's tears mirrored his and she dragged the back of her hand across her face to sop them up.

"My whole world changed when I met you" she told him. "I have never, ever felt like this before and I am not going to have enough time" she rasped. "I'm not going to have enough time to love you, not enough time to do all the things I want with you. And I'm not going to have enough time with our family. And that devastates me."

"There is no such thing as enough time" he countered softly. "That would mean there is an end point, a moment where one of us would have had enough of the other and I don't think love works like that. I'm not an expert on the subject but I just don't think it works like that. I think my Dad would have fallen to pieces to some extent even he had another 25 years with my Mom because I don't think you can quantify it."

"Maybe it would be better if you didn't build a life with someone like me – if you let yourself be open to the possibility of falling in love with someone else."

He shook his head in violent protest. "I don't understand that" he told her. "I don't understand how people fall in love more than once. I didn't even know it at the time but I have been waiting my whole life for you. It is impossible for me to believe that there is another person in the world who can give me what you do, who can love me like you do. I simply cannot conceive of loving someone else after loving you. And then there's the fact that I don't want to build a life with someone like you – I want to build a life with you."

"I want a life with you too" she finally admitted. Patrick could not contain his smile at finally hearing the words out loud. "But what we want doesn't change what we're afraid of. It doesn't change what's in our way."

He nodded in agreement. "We'll never be able to fully put it out of the way, but maybe we can shove it off to the side."

"I'd like to try that" she said tearfully.

"Me too."

"So we keep talking?"

"Yeah" he agreed hoarsely. "We keep talking."

Getting to her feet Robin crossed the room to where he sat and grabbing a fistful of his t-shirt, pulled him towards her. Closing her mouth over his with delicate pressure, she kissed him with a quiet passion, revealing as much there as they had with their words.

Patrick cupped her face, his thumb gently stroking along her cheekbones and he pressed his forehead against hers. His nerve endings were raw and exposed and he was suddenly exhausted. His mind could barely process a single, coherent thought save one – standing still was beginning to feel very good.