FicWad

Thought I would dedicate this to heyyoungblood! Thanks for reviewing and the kind words, I wasn't sure if anyone was reading so thank you!x

Pete laughed and looked back at Josh's room as Patrick closed the door over.
"You know something?" Pete asked, walking into the spare room. He sat on the bed and watched Patrick follow him into the room.
"What?"
"You're really lucky, you know that?" Pete said, tracing the pattern on the bedsheets with his finger. "You have a great house, three kids who love you more than anything, and a wife who'll move the world for you."
Patrick froze and looked at the carpet. He sat in silence for a few seconds before replying.
"I know I'm lucky. I'm the luckiest man in the world," he acknowledged. "But it's taken me a hell of a long time to get here, remember?"
"Right." Pete nodded. "You've been through a lot of shit and come out smiling."
"I only got here because of you."
"You would have gotten here eventually." Pete said.
"I don't think I could have." Patrick disagreed. "If it weren't for you, I'd probably still be in bed and waking up shouting for Amanda. But we're not talking about me, we're talking about you."
"What if Petey grows up to think I abandoned him?" Pete asked, suddenly. "I don't want him to hate me."
"He won't." Patrick said, sympathetically. "You're his dad. You always will be. And you're gonna watch him grow into a man."
"I think she really means it this time, Patrick. I don't think she's ever gonna let me near him again."
"Of course she will."
"What makes you think that?"
"Pete, you're forgetting that I've known Rachel longer than you have. I knew her when she first came to LA. She didn't know anybody, and she had nothing to her name. And then she met you."
"Yeah, then I fucked her life up."
"How? By proposing to her? By giving her the greatest gift in the world? Your baby? That's a part of you both. She knows that."
"So why is she running away from her problems? We might have had trouble but she shouldn't have run away! You don't run from problems, you fix them!"
"You have to remember that she's sick. She never got treated for her post partum depression. She's not thinking straight. She's definitely not herself."
"What if she is being herself and we just rushed into an engagement and having a baby? Maybe now I'm just seeing the real her."
Patrick stayed silent. He knew Pete was hurting and desperately searching for an answer.
"What do you think? You're a good judge of character."
Patrick snorted and laughed. "You think?"
"Yeah."
"Well then I really fucked up with the mother of my kids, huh?"
"Just answer the question."
"Honestly?" He asked Pete, who nodded enthusiastically.
"Honestly... if I didn't think she was a great girl, I never would have employed her." Patrick said, with a slight shrug of his shoulder."
"Are you kidding me? You're justifying her acting so irrationally?" Pete said, angrily.
"No!" Patrick replied, shocked. "I'm not... justifying anything. But you can't overlook that Rachel is sick."
"Oh, bullshit!" Pete said, standing up and throwing his hands in the air. "You're just making excuses for her being a psycho bitch!"
"Hey!" Patrick said, standing up too. "You're not thinking about this properly. I know you're angry."
"Of course I'm angry! I tell you ALL the time! You're trying to tell me that she's not running away from her problems, that she's just sick? That's total bullshit!"

Patrick had never seen Pete like this, maybe it was because for so many years, Pete had been the strong one. He had always been the one protecting Patrick after everything that had happened, and now there was a shift in roles. Sure, Pete had been depressed before, Patrick could still barely bring himself to remember the time he received a call from Pete's mom telling him Pete was in the hospital after overdosing. But that was years ago, they had been through bouts of depression with Pete but he had always bounced back. Patrick hated to admit it to himself, but he wasn't sure if he could picture Pete ever bouncing back from this.
"Listen, we've all been depressed. You, me, Rachel, loads of people. It doesn't mean you're running away from problems."
"That's a load of crap and you know it."
"Oh, really?" Patrick replied, sarcastically.
"Yeah!" Pete said, angrily.
"Oh, okay!" Patrick said, his temper rising too. "Then what do you call the day you took a bottle of Ativan pills?"
Pete stopped in his tracks and stared.
"What?"
"Are you telling me that you weren't sick then? That you were just... running away from your problems?"
Pete was stunned into silence, Patrick's words spinning through his head.
"I remember getting that call... From your mom. She was crying so bad she could barely get the words out. So rather than come to the hospital I should have just berated you for running away from your sadness? To completely overlook the fact you were depressed and not thinking straight?"
Pete still stood in silence, watching Patrick.
"Explain your logic here, Pete. 'Cause I sure as hell don't understand it."
Pete looked at the ground in shame.
"You're right. I don't know what the hell I'm talking about." He groaned, sinking onto the bed.
"Clearly." Patrick said. He was breathing heavily like he always did when he got angry. He took a few deep breaths and tried to calm down. It was easy to be on the outside and get frustrated when Pete couldn't see how he was coming across, and he had to be patient with him.
Patrick sat down again and waited.
"I know Rachel's not herself." Pete admitted, staring at the ceiling. "I think this is why it's so agonizing. The Rachel I fell in love with was sweet, and funny... and caring. Now she's full of resentment and anger. I don't know who she is anymore."
"I don't think she does, either. It must be really scary for her." Patrick said, reasonably. "As guys, we will never know what she's feeling. I mean sure, when the kids were born I was emotional... but it was different."
"Maybe I should read about post partum depression and try to understand a bit better." Pete considered aloud.
"Maybe you should," Patrick agreed. "But don't beat yourself up too. Rachel's been in this cloud of depression since Petey was born and she's in denial about it. Come on Pete, remember what it was like when you were depressed. You often can't recognize it yourself because you can't see past the darkness."
"When did you become the voice of reason and I became the subject?" Pete joked.
"I learnt from you," Patrick laughed. "You were always the voice of reason. Now it's my turn."
"So what do you wanna do about this?" He asked eventually. "I mean, asides from jumping on the next plane to Oz."
"I don't know," Pete replied, honestly. "I really don't know. If this was just a break up, I'd know that one day I would be okay. But all I can think is that I'm never gonna see my son again. I can't comprehend that. I don't want to."
Patrick fidgeted nervously.
"You shouldn't have to." He answered. "Remember when I got that letter from Christina's attorney saying she was going to court to get custody?"
"Yeah..."
"And you found out Jenny was only with you to keep tabs on me and keep Christina informed?"
"Yeah." Pete nodded. "Where are you going with this?"
"You told me that morning that we wouldn't let them win. And we didn't. You stuck by me through all of that. And I promise I'll do the same for you. I'll make sure you get your son back. I promise."
Pete shook his head. "Don't make promises you can't keep."
Patrick waited for Pete to catch his eye before replying.
"I don't." He winked.


Patrick didn't sleep that night. He couldn't. He was feeling an overwhelming duty to be the one caring for Pete, to make all of this suffering disappear, he simply didn't know what he could do.
Sitting up in bed, Patrick had a brainwave. For the second time that night he crept out of bed, his phone in his hand, and made his way downstairs in the dark.
He sat at the kitchen table and looked at his cell phone sitting in front of him. He didn't know why, but he was nervous. He picked it up and had just begun to dial when a voice made him jump.
"Daddy?" Danielle was standing in the doorway, looking tired and rubbing her eye.
"Hey sweetie," Patrick said, putting his phone back down on the table and pushing his chair out away from the table as she walked towards him.
"What are you doing up, huh?" He asked as he picked her up and hauled her onto his knee.
"I had a bad dream." She replied, putting her arms around his neck. He leant his head against her and smiled.
"Oh dear... there's been a few bad dreams in this place tonight." He said, closing his eyes. He was about to open his mouth and tell her that Pete was upstairs, but he decided against it. If he told her she would never go back to sleep, and he could use a half hour alone to gear himself up for what he was about to do.
"I lived in a castle and there was a monster trying to eat me." She told him, tears beginning to fall as she recounted her dream. Patrick smiled at her innocence and stroked her hair.
"Oh dear... there's been lots of tears as well." Patrick said, remembering Addison had said that a few hours ago. "But you know there aren't any monsters, right?" He asked. She shook her head and he rocked back and forth ever so slightly.
"Even if there were, you don't need to worry about them, okay? Daddy will always protect you from them, 'cause you're my Princess."
"Okay." She whispered.
"Especially when you're older and the monsters turn into boys that make you cry. Even when you're a beautiful young woman, I'll still cuddle you and wipe your tears away. You know that, right?"
She nodded although Patrick could see she had no idea what the hell he was talking about. He laughed quietly and nodded.
"Well, why don't we go back to bed and I'll read you a story, how does that sound?"
"Okay." She said, quietly.
"Right, get on my back and I'll carry you up the stairs like I'm a horse." He said, standing up and swinging her round so she was on his back, her arms wrapped around his neck.
"Horses can't go up stairs!" She informed him like he had no idea.
"Well, this one can!" Patrick said, and pretended to gallop up the stairs as quietly as he could as Danielle giggled quietly.
"Destination... NEVERLAND!"


Half an hour later, Patrick was back at the kitchen table, his glasses pushed up to the top of his head as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. The only sound was the hum of the refrigerator and Patrick rapping his other hand on the table.
"Just do it," he told himself, and reached over to pick up his phone.
He dialed the number and put it to his ear and closed his eyes, praying that someone would pick up on the other end.
"Rachel? It's Patrick."