Chapter 208

To love somebody, the way I love you

The gravel crunched underneath the tires as the car wound its way through the narrow pathway. The trees hung heavily with their abundant leaves and the scent of fresh flowers wafted softly on the air. As he brought the car to a stop and looked up, he felt this throat close over. It had been years since he had been here and he was not prepared for the blanket of feelings that unexpectedly fell down around his shoulders.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and swung his feet to the road beneath him. He opened the backdoor and retrieved a blanket, hanging it over his arm. He climbed up the tiny hill, spread out the blanket and sat down.

He used to think cemeteries were eerie and void of life but as he sat, staring at the headstone, he could hear birds calling to each other and the breeze softly rustling the leaves. There was life to be seen here it was just quieter.

Madeline Drake, Beloved wife and mother, 1953-1997

Reaching out, he traced his fingertips over the engraved name and smiled a little sadly. Centred on the headstone were two wedding bands joined together like a symbol of eternity. Opposite his mother's name was another:

Noah Drake, 1951-

He practically cringed as he read it. It had been added in a fit of righteous rage. After one too many nights of pulling his father from a bar and convinced he too was going to die, Patrick had hired the engraver to etch his father's name on the headstone and then told Noah about it. He remembered yelling at him to just go ahead and die already – he was ready for it. Noah had stumbled away, tears in his eyes. It had been one of the last times Patrick had spoken to him until they both wound up in Port Charles, courtesy of Robin.

Shaking his head he could not believe how far they had come since that night – or how far he had come since he first met Robin.

"I haven't been here in a while" he said softly, looking at his mother's name. "I'm sorry about that."

Reaching into his wallet, he pulled out a photo and felt his heart expand as he looked down on it. It had been taken the week before – he and Robin were lying on the floor with Kathleen, almost a month old now – on the blanket. She was looking up at the photographer, her Grandpa Noah, with a toothless smile on her face. The moment Patrick had seen the photo he knew exactly what he wanted to do.

"I'm a dad now." An impish grin formed at the corners of his mouth. "I have a beautiful daughter – Kathleen – and you would love her. You would love her mother too," he added. "They are both so amazing."

Blowing out his cheeks, he smiled as he stole another look at the photo. "I wish you were here; telling me what to do and laughing at my attempts at fatherhood. Do you know that she only spits up on me? It doesn't matter how many times I feed her or how many times Robin feeds her, she only spits up on me. What do you think that's about?"

He chuckled softly and leaned back on the blanket. "This is the longest I have ever been away from them" he said quietly. "It's funny, I used to worry so much about losing my freedom but I finally figured out that freedom requires roots. I don't want to be untethered, I like….I like being tied down." He smirked. "I can hear you laughing at me, you know."

Rolling onto his stomach, still holding the photo in his hand, he shook his head. "On some level I think you pushed Robin towards me or me to her. She's amazing, Mom. She knows how stupid and ridiculous I can be and she still loves me. Being loved by her…I never….I had no idea that anything could feel like that and now to have a child together – to be bound by this tiny little being…" his voice trailed off. "I guess….I guess what I'm trying to tell you is that I'm okay. Actually," he corrected, "I'm better than okay. I'm great."

His eyes pricked with tears and he gave a small shake of his head to push them away. "We're going to get married on Christmas Eve. I can't….I can't wait to be able to call her my wife."

Memories of a life long ago flashed in his memory. He saw his parents dancing around the kitchen as dinner burned on the stove; he could see the look of love in his father's eyes as he watched his wife from across the room at one of their legendary Christmas parties; there was a glimpse of his mother reaching for his father's hand any time they were together – at the grocery store, in the car, at church. And in those memories he got a peek at the future he wanted. He wanted Kathleen to have those memories of her parents – that they loved each other profoundly, that they cherished each other and her and that they were happy.

It was like some mantle had been lifted from his shoulders. It was okay for him to be happy. It was okay for him to embrace the love he felt for Robin and their daughter. Happiness wasn't going to weaken him, love hadn't made him soft – they had strengthened him and sustained him. There was nothing left to run from and everything to run towards.

Kneeling up, he dug a small hole with his fingers at the base of the headstone and placed the picture inside before covering it up with dirt. Leaning in, he kissed his mother's name and smiled.

"I love you Mom."

****
With Kathleen happily ensconced in her arms, Robin smiled at her daughter. Patrick had departed early in the morning for a trip up to New York City and she, having finally regained all her strength, decided she had her own visit to make.

As the door to Kelly's opened, Robin looked up and grinned. He looked much as he always had but there were hints, small clues as to the battle he was waging and her heart sank just a little. Giving him a small wave, she beckoned him over to the table.

Leaning in to kiss her cheek, he stopped himself short and simply slid into the chair on the opposite side of the table.

"I don't mean to alarm you" Darren teased, "but it seems you have a baby in your arms."

Robin laughed lightly. "Oh my god! How did that happen?"

"I don't know" he said with a shake of his head, "but apparently finders keepers. You look great" he told her.

"So do you" she told him.

"You lie but I like it."

Robin pushed back her chair and getting to her feet, came around the table and placed her daughter in his arms. When he looked up at her in surprise, she shook her head.

"Darren, meet Kathleen. Kathleen, this is my friend Darren."

"Robin, are you sure?"

"Stop being ridiculous and start cooing over how beautiful she is" she chided him kindly as she retook her seat.

He looked down at the happy face staring up at him and could not help but smile. She had chubby, full cheeks and a wide toothless smile and in holding her, in feeling the warmth from her tiny body, he was reminded of what goodness life could offer.

"She really is beautiful," he said softly. "Thank you" he whispered.

"How are you?" Robin asked gently.

With a small shrug, he looked back down at the baby. "I'm okay. I've had two bouts of pneumonia in the last 6 weeks but I'm finally off the antibiotics." As Kathleen sighed sleepily and her eyes grew heavy, Darren felt his own eyes well. "What a gift Robin."

"She is" she agreed. "And you are partially responsible for her being here."

His eyebrows shot up and with a mischievous grin he replied, "Have you told Patrick that? Because I think he might object."

Laughing, she shook her head. "That's not what I mean. You helped me believe she was possible – when I joined the group I was not in a good place – but you helped me change that."

"Robin that was a journey you made on your own" he demurred.

"I don't agree," she replied. "You encouraged me and held me accountable for things I said or did – or didn't do. Both at group and just by being my friend. You made me it okay for me to say things that I had never said out loud before and that – that made it possible for me to fall deeply in love and become a mom. It may have been my journey but you have been a big part of it."

He swallowed down the acrid lump in his throat and smiled shyly. "Thanks."

There were moments where Robin still wasn't sure it was real and she had to pinch herself. It had been a long, winding and bumpy road to get to where she was – happy, complete and in love – and there were times when she had been sure it would never happen but it did. She had much to be grateful for and wanted to share it with everyone who had helped her along the way.

"Melinda and I had talked about adopting" he said quietly. "We had been saving up for it because we'd have to go private."

"You say 'had'" she pointed out.

He nodded. "It was one thing when I was just positive but now with AIDS I can't…I just can't."

"Darren – you still have a lot of life left to live" she said urgently.

A small, sad smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Ah, but it's not about quantity – it never has been for me – it's about quality. And I may live many years yet but the reality is I will be sick for much of it and that…..I would not want that for a child of mine."

Robin swiped at the tears that had suddenly formed and shook her head. "I hate this! I really hate this!"

"Me too" he admitted honestly. "But no one gets to do everything they want – life is about sacrifice and compromise and this is one of those times. But I still have the love of a good woman and I have friends – and friends with cute babies," he smiled, "so it's okay."

"How is Melinda coping?"

"She's amazing" he said wondrously. "Other people would have walked away and frankly, who would blame them – no one signs on for this – but she's resolute in her love and her commitment and that is as powerful as any medication they inject into my veins."

His words resonated strongly with him and she thought back to those moments with Patrick – the failure of her protocol, his exposure through the broken condom, the discussion about mortality – and he too was unwavering. It was not necessarily the life anyone dreamed of but she had learned at a young age that love was unable to recognize disease.

"My sister," he began, interrupting her thoughts, "has stopped hugging me or kissing my cheek," he said sadly. "And she's told her kids to not kiss me either."

Robin's brown eyes blazed furiously. "Your sister? YOUR SISTER?"

He nodded. "She's not ignorant – she knows the facts – but she's afraid and you can't dictate another person's fear."

Reaching across the table, Robin took his hand in his and squeezed it. Nights spent in Patrick's arms were never taken for granted – she had spent as many nights alone and untouched as she had being loved and she knew how isolating that could be. It was impossible to know how important the touch of another person was until you had to go without.

"Well I'm not afraid," she said, "nor is Patrick or Kathleen. You are welcome to cuddle our daughter any time."

"Melinda told me the same thing" he told her. "That she wasn't afraid. I tell you Robin, I got one of the truly special people when I got her."

She nodded. "So did I Darren. So did I."