Author's Note: I claim no affiliation or credit for these characters.
This story is set Ten years in the future. I took some liberties with the current (Oct 2008) storylines on GH and Night Shift. Some of the turns here are not what happened, or likely will happen, on either show.
This is a Three-Part story; just a little plot bunny that came to me suddenly one day.
Patrick Drake looked up from the morning copy of the Port Charles Herald and met the dark, chocolate brown eyes of his daughter, Devan. The girl, a spitting image of her mother at that same age, was glaring at Patrick with a deeply furrowed brow.
"Hmmmm?" Patrick smiled at his daughter as she huffed deeply and crossed her tiny arms in front of her.
"You aren't listening to me," she finally muttered after a minute of silence.
"I'm sorry. What did you ask me again?" Patrick put the paper down and picked up his glass of orange juice. The sports pages could wait a moment.
"I said, I need get in touch with Gamma Anna," Devan unfolded her arms and sighed deeply. "Can you email her or something?"
Patrick felt his chest tighten. The last time he had contacted Anna they had ended up in an argument over Devan. Specifically about what Patrick told her about Robin.
"Sure D, but what do you need to talk to Gamma Anna about?"
"Um…for school. We have to write a family history report. Like the family tree I had to do last year, only this time we are supposed to write out the history, and talk about the struggles and things like that."
"Really?" Patrick felt his apprehension take a turn towards panic.
"Yeah; Mr. Spencer said it's really important to know this stuff, like, family history and things."
Patrick couldn't believe that 10-year olds were expected to do the kind of research Devan was talking about.
"I'll see if I can get in touch with her. But you know I might be able to answer a lot of your questions," Patrick offered, hoping somehow he'd be enough to answer his daughter's questions.
"Oh," Devan's face fell just a bit and immediately Patrick felt his heart twist.
"But I know you haven't seen Gamma Anna in a few months, so of course you'd rather ask her," Patrick added, his heart swelling as his daughter's face lifted.
"Thanks daddy," Devan moved forward and threw her tiny arms around Patrick's neck, leaving butterfly kisses on his cheek.
"Anything for you," Patrick whispered as he wrapped his long arms tightly around Devan and stood from the kitchen table, swinging his laughing, shrieking daughter in tiny circles, stopping only when the school bus outside started honking its horn.
"I am surprised to hear from you," Anna Devane's accented voice sounded through the phone line.
"Devan wants to see you, if possible," Patrick replied, ignoring the baiting tone of his mother in laws voice.
"Of course, I happen to be on my way to debrief; so I can be in Port Charles by late tonight or early tomorrow."
"Great, I'll let her know," Patrick replied. "Will you need me to come pick you up at the airport?"
"I'll get a taxi," Anna responded. "Patrick, what's this about? There's nothing the matter, is there?"
"No, nothing's the matter. It's a school assignment. I think she wants to talk to you about Robin."
Devan was dancing around the island in the kitchen of the house. Patrick stood at the stove, stirring the marinara sauce for dinner.
"She'll be here by tomorrow at the latest," Patrick finally answered, stirring a bit more Oregano into the marinara sauce.
"Yes!! Yes, yes, yes!!" Devan twirled on the tile of the kitchen, then laughed as she tripped and fell against the island.
"Careful!" Patrick nervously laughed, his mind playing the ever-recurring nightmare of having to cut into his daughters head to perform brain surgery.
"Now come try the sauce and let me know what you think."
The next day was a Saturday and contrary to established patterns, Devan was up with the sun and waiting downstairs while Patrick was still asleep; about 10am Patrick rolled out of bed and heard the faint echo of laughter and voices talking. Remembering that Anna was due, Patrick cursed his fitful night of sleep and donning his robe he made his way downstairs.
"Morning, daddy!" Devan cried as Patrick descended the last few stairs. Smiling, Patrick held out his arms for his morning hug and tried to ignore the roll of his daughters eyes as she came over and gave him a very lackluster hug.
"Good morning, Patrick," Anna smiled from the sofa.
"Anna, nice to see you," Patrick smiled back as he headed through the living room to the kitchen where he hoped there was some coffee left.
"Daddy! Look what Gamma brought me from…um…from…where were you again, gamma?"
Patrick, his back to the room, poured coffee into his favorite mug, the one that Devan had made in preschool, the one with her tiny handprints on the side, in brightly mismatched paint colors.
Turning, he nearly dropped his mug as he was faced with a tiny aboriginal looking person standing where his daughter had been previous.
The look on Patrick's face must have been funny, because almost immediately Devan dropped the mask and collapsed on the tile floor, laughing hysterically. Patrick stared down at his daughter and fought the urge to laugh as she smiled and glanced at Anna, who was watching them over the back of the sofa.
"It's from the South Island." Anna smiled as Devan's giggles subsided and she stretched out on the tile, holding the mask above her and dancing it around.
"New Zealand," Anna added and she turned on the sofa and followed Patrick as he sat down opposite her.
"Has she asked you what she needs to know?" Patrick blurted, unable to hold his curiosity at bay any longer.
Anna smiled sadly.
"You were right, she wants to know about Robin."
Devan was born 12:43 am, October 31st, 2008. Things went well-labor and delivery were fast, and it was only three hours after onset that little Devan Roberta Scorpio Drake was born into the world. She was welcomed with love and joy by Anna, Noah, Mac, Maxie, and Patrick's newfound half-brother, Matt.
A few days earlier, Robin and Patrick had come to an agreement on a name. Their baby girl would be named after her stong and independent grandmother, Devan, a play on Devane. It was an immediate fit. Baby Devan Drake was a tough little girl and immediately both Robin and Patrick saw strength and determination in her tiny features.
It wasn't until a few days later that things started to fall apart. Robin, though her HIV status had been nearly undetectable, somehow picked up a virulent infection while in the hospital. It ravaged her immune system quickly and the doctors had no explanation for it. Within three months of delivering her baby, she succumbed to the infection. Patrick found he'd become a new husband, then a new father, then a new widower; all within four months time.
For the first few years things were okay. Patrick stumbled along as most fathers do, but Devan was healthy, and happy. There was no shortage of people who loved and cared for her. When Devan started asking questions about Robin, Patrick found that he didn't know what to tell her. This is when his relationship with Anna began to strain. Patrick didn't want to tell Devan about Robin's HIV; Anna felt it was a slap in the face of her daughter not to share Robin's struggles and triumphs and accomplishments in the face of HIV. And still, Patrick had not shared that one piece of information with his daughter.
Devan knew her mother had died. But all she knew was that is was an infection. So far, that had been enough to satiate the little girl's curiosity. Patrick knew it was only a matter of time before she asked more questions, and now that he'd held on to the truth for so long, he wasn't sure he should, or could, tell his daughter the real reasons behind her mother's death. He didn't know that she could understand, and selfishly Patrick wanted Robin to remain a perfect guardian angel in his daughter's eyes.
And now he was back to that same question again.
"Uncle Mac is here," Patrick heard Devan yell from outside.
It was late Saturday afternoon, Patrick and Anna were moving around the kitchen, ferrying dishes to the large, formal dining room table that was only ever used when company was over. It had been Devan's idea to have a big family dinner that very evening.
As usual, Patrick could not deny her, so he made some calls, and miraculously, everyone was available. Patrick suspected even if someone might have had plans they would have cancelled. Devan was a special kid to many people, and for Mac and Anna she was a reminder (nearly carbon-copy) of the niece and daughter they each lost, respectively, far too soon.
Mac strolled into the kitchen, Devan firmly attached to his back, whispering in his ear. Mac was grinning and Patrick felt a huge swell of love for his daughter come over him.
"Now don't tell anyone," Devan said as Mac set her gently down on the floor.
"Cross my heart," Mac leaned down and kissed the top of Devan's head.
"I'm going to wait for Uncle Matty!" Devan called and with the energy God only gives to the very young, sprinted from the house.
"What can I do to help?" Mac smiled as he and Anna greeted each other.
Thirty minutes later they were seated around the table. An unlikely group. Patrick and Anna flanked Devan. Noah sat next to Anna; Maxie next to Noah, and Matt between Maxie and Mac. Patrick marveled at the power his daughter had over this group of people. No two of them (save Mac and Anna) could get along with each other for more then a few minutes, yet with Devan in the room, it was as if everyone had been lifelong friends.
Devan was his miracle-and at that moment, Patrick missed Robin more then he had in years. She had possessed the same power with people, and her life had been cut far too short.