Chapter 202

Love is not a victory march, it's a cold and broken Hallelujah

As the orderly snatched Robin from his arms and disappeared behind the OR doors, Patrick staggered backwards. His heart was thrashing about inside his chest and he was unable to process any thought; the only image in his head was of how pale and tiny Robin was in his arms. His entire body trembled as he stared helplessly at the OR doors.

Kelly called to him. "Patrick, we're going to do everything we can for her."

"You have to save her" he gritted out urgently, grabbing hold of her arm. "You MUST save her Kelly - there isn't another option."

She nodded as she burst through the OR doors. There was no time for the normal platitudes given in situations like this, besides, she knew Patrick wouldn't believe her.

Baffled, he covered his mouth with his hand. One hour ago their daughter - their unexpected miracle - made her grand entrance, and now her mother was fighting for her life. Tears filled his eyes but he refused to let them fall. Fear was quickly being replaced by a cold, hard rage; his panic was giving way to fury. How was it that she was left to bleed out into her bed and not a single person noticed? When the time was right he would get the names of the nurses and he would have their jobs. He would have Kelly's job too if he could prove she had any responsibility in this. The woman he loved was on the verge of having everything she had ever dreamed of - on the verge of having what she had almost been afraid to ask for - and this was unacceptable.

He stumbled down the hallway in a daze, oblivious to the stares he was garnering; Robin's blood had soaked through his t-shirt, the t-shirt she had been so anxious to remove from him several hours earlier. He didn't care. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered if Robin didn't come out of the OR alive. He continued to walk blindly, not sure where he was going but only that he needed to stay in motion. To stop meant he would think and to think meant he would really start to weigh the likelihood of her dying and that was simply not something he wanted to do.

Someone called his name but he raised his hand and waved them off, continuing to walk. He couldn't actually see where he was going his field of vision was occupied with other sights - the moment Kathleen was on Robin's chest, arms and legs squirming in protest at having left her warm home; Robin stroking their daughter's thick hair; Robin holding her, bundled in a soft, pink blanket, in her arms for the very first time; Robin's blood spilling out further and further on to the bed. Without even trying he could practically guess the amount of blood she had lost but shaking his head, he pushed it far from his mind. He couldn't think of it, he wouldn't think of it.

Nearly tripping over his feet, he slammed his hands into the door in front of him and pushing them open shuffled inside. Seeing the crucifix hanging at the opposite end of the room stopped him in his tracks. Against all odds, he had found his way to the chapel. Slinging his hands low on his hips, he scoffed loudly to the empty room. Seething as his rage churned violently inside him, he strode down the aisle shaking his head. Coming to a stop in front of the altar he stood stock still and glared with unrelenting fury in his eyes.

"My life was good," he began angrily. "It wasn't much necessarily but I was okay -I had friends, I had a career and I had the pick of any woman I wanted. It suited me just find to leave it like that but not you - no you - you sick sonofabitch - you had to go and change it up. Was it for shits and giggles? Are you happy now? You put her in my life - I wasn't looking for her, I wasn't asking for her - you put her there. And you kept putting her there until I had no choice but to fall in love with her. That was grand plan all along, wasn't it?" Disdain dripped from his voice as he paced restlessly in front of the crucifix.

"So what is this to you? Revenge? Your idea of entertainment? You don't have enough problems in the world to fix, you have to come and fuck with my life? You have my mother. You nearly took my father and my best friend - twice I might add - so now it's my girlfriend? I get the baby but I lose her? Don't you know that none of it matters NONE of it, if I don't have her? You're an asshole, you know that? A real, certifable asshole. I was perfectly happy to leave you alone and have you do the same. I don't need you. You were nowhere to be found when my life was falling apart, you were nowhere to be found when my father was crawling inside a bottle. I finally get something good - something great - in my life and now you show up? Just to mess with it?"

Falling silent he continued to pace; his anger had him spinning. He could feel his t-shirt, drenched in her blood, sticking to his torso like some macabre reminder that it wasn't in his control - nothing was in his control.

"You can't have her!" he yelled, his voice echoing loudly in the chapel. "Do you fucking hear me? YOU CAN'T HAVE HER! Not no - you'll get her at some point but !" His chest heaved. "You better fix her. Do you hear me? Oh great and merciful god, my ass. I think you're petty and small and I think you like to mess with people. Well fuck you" he shouted, his voice hoarse. "Do you hear me? Take your mercy and your faith and your benevolence and go fuck yourself. I'm done."

In one final disparaging act, Patrick spat on the foot of the altar.

"Patrick"

He spun on his heels and saw his father coming down the aisle.

"Dad" he croaked, faltering as he tried to walk to him.

Moving in a rush, Noah caught him in his arms and held him tightly. "It's okay sport, I have you."