Chapter 9

November 7, 2007

"Ah, jeez! What the hell is your problem?" Noah Drake sputtered, whisky and saliva flying from his drenched, pouted lips. He jumped from his feet, stumbling and cursing under his breath. The effect of ice water in the dead of winter was taking its toll: his eyes were red and dilated, his cheeks were crimson, and his two-inch-below-the-ears shoe polish black hair hung lifelessly against the collar of his turquoise button-down. Under his button-down, he wore a white, wife beater T-shirt with a whiskey stain on the front. His jeans were torn and faded; his boots were black and muddy even though it hadn't rained in over a week. How long had he been here? Was he even the man she was looking for? The bartender could have been misinformed: this might not even be the incredible neurosurgeon she had been referenced to. What little she knew about him, she couldn't say for certain that this was him. She had been given no picture, no way of determining his identity.

It'd be best to find out now; Jason didn't have a lot of time. He was dying every second he was in that hospital bed; she hadn't come all the way from Paris to admit failure. So her miracle drug therapy had been unsuccessful. She had taken the next step. If this guy wasn't who she was looking for, she would have to move onto the next angle. "You're Noah Drake, the neurosurgeon, right?" Robin challenged, swiping her cinnamon hair behind her ear in a frustrated gesture. The empty water pitcher dangled from her clenched fingers while her free hand rested high on her hip.

"What? That guy is dead. He checked out a long time ago. Why don't you let him rest in peace?" Noah snapped angrily, wiping the moisture from his face.

"'As it went on, the little engine kept bravely puffing faster and faster, 'I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.'" Tears slipped down her cheeks as the world around her came into focus. Robin blinked once, twice, allowing Patrick's voice to render her into a spectacular calm. His right hand softly patted her abdomen, his fingers brushing over the silk of nightgown. If she wasn't mistaken, she had fallen asleep curled up next to Patrick in the living room wearing only her underwear. Refusing to shift her body, not wanting to break the sweet moment she was secretly a part of, she noticed that she was in her bed; the sodden carpet was no longer stabbing into her sensitive skin nor were there rough patches on her arms, legs, or the sides of her face. Her heart swelled when she realized that he was talking to the baby.

The big, bad Dr. Drake was reading to her stomach, envisioning himself doing so in a little over four months. Would he be the kind of dad who helped their son do his homework when he was having trouble? Would he teach him about race car driving, let him test his skills on a lone track when he was old enough to drive? What kind of parents would they be to this baby? Would they work so much that one day they would have to choose between their professions and their son? She was getting way ahead of herself; they hadn't talked about their future, together or apart, Family Ties or Cheers. There was no reason for her to be mapping out their lives together when there was no guarantee that it would ever happen.

"Were you talking to the baby?" Robin teased, a yawn escaping her as her eyes blinked open. She stared down at him, dragging her bottom lip between her teeth and softly tugging on the skin. At her raised eyebrow, Patrick leaned up and kissed her fully on the mouth, lazily swiping his tongue into her mouth when her lips parted. His fingers moved to the hem of her nightgown as he eased her onto her back.

"Of course not. Who does that?" Patrick answered arrogantly, losing his free hand in her soft hair and yanking her head backwards so that he could bend his body more comfortably over hers. She wiggled under him, giggling when he groaned into her mouth.

"I was almost certain I went to sleep naked." Robin murmured, tracing her index finger over Patrick's heart, smiling when she felt it beating furiously against her hand.

"You looked cold." Patrick clarified, frowning at Robin when she stilled his skilled hand.

"Did you sleep at all?" Robin wanted to know. She rolled onto her right side and closed her eyes when she felt his arms wrap securely around her waist.

"No. I didn't trust myself to." Patrick replied, lightly kissing her back. "Did you dream?"

"I did." Robin stared down at her hands, her voice nothing more than a mumble.

"Nightmare?" Patrick supposed.

"I had a flashback of when I first met Noah." Robin explained in a rush.

"You never told me that story." Patrick responded, barely brushing his lips against her neck.

"I poured a pitcher of water on his head." Robin told him, slowly flipping onto her back.

"Naughty much?" He narrowed his eyes at her.

"He had it coming. You know how I hate to be ignored." Robin defended herself.

"That I do know." Patrick agreed, dropping his head to rest upon her shoulder.

"I have to go to work." Robin whined, crawling off of the bed.

"I have funeral arrangements to make anyway." Patrick stated, reaching for her right hand and snatching her toward him.

"I love you." Robin whispered as she pressed her lips to his.

"I love you too." Patrick echoed, letting her go. "Let's meet for dinner tonight."

"Alright. I'll wear that dress you like." Robin agreed.

"Which dress?" Patrick insisted, but she was already gone.

*****

November 11, 2007

Silky fawn brown hair flowed in front of foggy, gray-blue eyes. His eyebrows were slightly bushy, but even they couldn't hide the intensity in his gaze. Other than a seemingly sketched on mustache and the hint of a five o'clock shadow, he had barely any facial hair. His lips were pursed together as if he was in deep concentration. If he was her age, he didn't look it. Was it the strength in his features or the confidence in his step that made him so intimidating?

"You're not being paid to stand there and ogle." Epiphany pointed out, pushing a chart into Elizabeth's hands.

"Oh come on. Can you blame me?" Elizabeth asked in a dreamy voice.

"Get your hormones in check. I won't have a distracted worker on my staff. Understood?" Epiphany warned in a condemning voice that she had perfected over the years.

"I do look forward to these talks, Epiphany. I'm going on break." Elizabeth informed her boss. She left the Nurse's Station, dropping the chart onto the desk.

"All I'm saying is it seems a little too simple." Lucky Spencer rationalized as he sat down with his partner, Cruz Rodriguez. The all-powerful Jason Morgan was at it again and Ric Lansing had them running after him…as if they didn't have anything better to do! Port Charles was crawling with bad guys, so why was Ric so desperate to pin every crime on Jason or his mentor, Sonny Corinthos? The only real connection between Ric and Jason was Sonny; Sonny and Ric were half-brothers. Ric was the spawn of Sonny's deceased mother and stepfather. He was the one who had taken Carly, Lucky's cousin, hostage when she was pregnant and chained her to a wall until she went into labor. He had even convinced Carly that they had slept together, bringing her true fear to light. It had been a lie of course, a ploy he had used to manipulate them. Jason, Carly's best friend and Lucky's ex-partner-in-crime so to speak, had tried to kill Ric several times. It was amazing that no proof had ever been found; the cops were always a step behind. Perhaps this was why Ric hated them so much. Lucky didn't consider himself below Jason or Sonny; he was a damn good cop as rare as that was in the Port Charles Police Department.

"What do you mean, simple? We've been tailing this guy for weeks." Cruz pointed out in a snippy voice.

"And suddenly he just falls into our laps? Come on, Cruz." Lucky persisted.

"There's no chance that you're just being paranoid, afraid of something good happening?" Cruz challenged.

"You know me too well." Lucky chuckled to himself. "Who is that girl?"

"Oh, her?" Cruz spun his head around. "That's Elizabeth Webber. She's new in town, got here about a month ago."

"A month and I never noticed her?" Lucky's voice was incredulous.

"In order to notice a stranger, you'd have to leave the office." Cruz informed him.

"She's beautiful." Lucky commented, dragging his eyes up and down her body as she walked across the room unaware of his open staring.

"She's trouble. Ric had me look up her file when she got to town. She's burned down schools, started riots, stole cars…" Cruz clarified.

"Uh huh. Sure. She looks dangerous." Lucky mocked. She was a tiny girl, so much so that he probably could have wrapped both hands around her waist. Chocolate ribbons dangled in front of hazel, half-closed eyes. She had a brick wall stare, but a thin, innocent mouth. She had seen the big, bad, and the ugly, but she was trying to appear unaffected. He had seen plenty just like her, had known plenty of girls who got into trouble to pass the time until they were away from whatever hurt them. In his mind, he could see her as a scared little girl presented with something that no child should ever have to face alone.

"Earth to Spencer?" Cruz mocked, waving in his hand in front of Lucky's face. Lucky only glared at him. "Still want to question our suspect? She'll still be here afterwards I'm sure."

"You go on without me. I'll catch up. We'll play good cop/bad cop or something." Lucky mumbled.

"I look forward to it." Cruz headed toward the elevator, whispering something to Elizabeth before disappearing into the elevator. Elizabeth's eyes darted to Lucky's and he couldn't resist the urge to gulp when he caught onto the intent stare she was sending his way.

"Something I can help you with?" Lucky inquired when Elizabeth headed his way. She folded her arms and bounced from foot to foot, clearly waiting for him to get the hint.

"You tell me. Your friend suggested we find a nice, quiet supply closet." Elizabeth replied in a sultry tone. Lucky blinked at her. "Of course, I'm sure you had nothing to do with that right?"

"I'm sorry for my partner. I really didn't know." Lucky responded.

"Partner? You're not gay are you? My God, can't I just find one attractive guy-?" Elizabeth rambled.

"I'm not gay. When I said partner, I meant that we're both detectives." Lucky interjected, half smiling.

"Oh. Well, as far as the supply closet goes, I think Patrick and Robin pretty much have them covered." Elizabeth began.

"I didn't mention anything about that. Cruz has a strange sense of humor." Lucky countered. "You think I'm attractive?"

"Oh God." Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "You're ringing." She pointed out, nodding toward his pants pocket.

"Duty calls." Lucky extended his hand.

"Wow, this is just…aren't you so polite? You better be careful. I've been told I'm poison." Elizabeth answered.

"I'm not afraid. I do have to go." Lucky reminded her. Elizabeth motioned for him to do just that.