Taking Emma Home
C: LiasonFan427
Port Charles, New York - The Scorpio House
Dr. Robin Scorpio Drake opened the front door of Mac's house and stepped inside. Carrying Emma in her carrier, her husband Dr. Patrick Drake followed her in. They dropped their bulky winter coats on the couch.
"Mac! Uncle Mac!" Robin called out. She ran up the stairs calling his name.
Patrick unwrapped Emma from her blanket and coat. She batted her eyes at him. She was staying awake for longer and longer periods of time now. He loved to just look at her.
"You got me wrapped around your little wittle finger don't you?" crooned Patrick. No one who knew Patrick as the hard-charging and accomplished neurosurgeon would recognize the tender doting father that the mere thought of his little girl reduced him to.
Robin bounded down the stairs again. "He wasn't at the police station. I thought he'd be here for sure."
"Maybe he's at the store or something."
"It's not his off day though. It's not like him to do errands when he's on call like today." Robin looked around the living room as if looking for clues. "Ah, I know. The secret room."
"The what?"
Robin led Patrick and Emma into the study. She went to the far wall and picked at what seemed to Patrick to be a random spot on the wall. A panel slid open like a door. Slack-jawed, he followed Robin into the room.
Inside along one wall was an enclosed and locked mesh rack and inside it a stack of computer gear sparkled with lights. Next to the rack was a long bench bolted to the wall upon which sat two laptops. Underneath the bench sat a safe and a squat file cabinet. A comfortable couch sat front and center of a flat screen TV hung on the wall. It was easily the biggest plasma screen Patrick had ever seen. Tucked into a far corner was a microwave sitting atop a small refrigerator.
"This was my parents' secure information room. It was like a second office for spy work. Uncle Mac converted it into his personal space when he needed time away from us kids."
"Go, Mac." Patrick looked around eyeing all the gadgets. "Private with all the trimmings. Very, very nice,"
"Useful, too. I spent nearly a week in one of these at Uncle Sean's old penthouse. He kitted it out just for me. I had a blast! If I remember correctly, my parents were in hiding and couldn't bring me along. So, for my safety, Uncle Sean stashed me in his secret room."
"The penthouse has one of these? Why were you inside?"
"Not anymore. That room was dismantled when Uncle Sean and Aunt Tiffany left. The space was added to Jason's kitchen,” said Robin nonchalantly.
Patrick found the remote and turned the TV on. An eruption of noise startled them.
"Don't worry. The room is soundproof."
"If I'm really good, can I have a room like this for Christmas? It could be my own man cave and retreat."
"Sorry. WSB-built and only for WSB personnel. Besides, it may look casual to you, and that's what it's supposed to look, but this room is here for a reason." Robin pushed on the wall by the computer rack. Two panels swung open revealing a series of hidden shelves. Mounted on the inside walls were guns and knives of various sizes and models. Below that were shelves lined with metal boxes. Two columns of pullout cabinets framed the wall.
Patrick gawked, "Planning to arm a small army?"
"It's my parents' gun collection. Well, mostly my mother's. Mac added the knives."
"Anna's? I can actually believe that."
"Many of these you can't buy anymore." Robin expertly removed a Walther PPK from the wall. Automatically she checked that the magazine clip was empty and the safety was on. "Like this one. This is a customized Walther PPK with a one-piece wraparound grip, night sight and silencer." Robin removed another gun from the rack. "Or my favorite, the Asp, fully handmade for Mom in Paris back in the day. This is one of the rarest guns in the world, Patrick. It can use multiple types of ammunition, made of low-reflection teflon-S, with the recoil of a smaller gun and excellent stopping power." She noticed this gun was loaded. She carefully put it back on the rack.
"Guns kill people, Robin."
"Guns don't kill. People do." Robin replied in a no-nonsense tone of voice.
"I do not want this stuff around Emma. We're doctors. Our mission is to preserve life not snuff it out,” said a flustered Patrick.
"Guns scare you." It was a statement not a question.
"Hell, yeah!" exclaimed Patrick. "You act as if ... as if it's a turn-on."
"I've been around them all my life, Patrick," scoffed Robin. "When I was younger, my dad took me to a pistol range. He taught me not to fear guns. My mom taught me how to skeet shoot. Guns are just tools nothing more."
"You're planning to teach Emma how to shoot and kill people?"
"Patrick, you see all these guns here. Well, news flash, honey, none of them can harm you or Emma as they are. Unless, someone loads them, points and pulls the trigger." Robin said. "If you're properly trained, like I was, you won't have issues or a fear of guns. But, you do learn to respect them and use them if you have to."
"I still don't want her near a gun, Robin. That's final."
"I'll make you a deal. I won't teach Emma how to shoot until she's old enough to make the decision for herself."
"She doesn't need to know this .... this stuff,” Patrick insisted.
"My daughter is not going to grow up to be some cowering, simpering chit. She'll need to know how to protect herself."
"That's my job," said Patrick. As if sensing conflict, Emma began to whimper. Patrick patted her back gently.
Robin breathed in deeply before saying, "Patrick, I know from experience that parents aren't always around. I want our little girl to be strong, independent and confident on her own."
"Teaching her about violence and guns isn't the answer."
"It's about fear not violence. Fear is a powerful thing. Right now, we're afraid for her. She'll grow up and she'll be afraid for herself, by herself. She can't run to mommy or daddy whenever she's afraid. She shouldn't have to."
"She's just a child. Who else is she going to run to?" asked Patrick.
Robin explained. "I want to teach her to be less afraid. You're a man. You can't relate to how a woman can be afraid of ... of walking the streets by herself, being alone with a strange man, being the lone woman in a group of men or something mundane like taking a taxi or the subway."
"But violence and -"
"I understand where you're coming from, Patrick, I do. I never want to see our little girl hurt. Ever." said Robin. "I just want to know that Emma has the ability to fight for her life if need be."
"For god's sakes, this is not the days of the cavemen. We don't live in the wilderness."
At his words, something snapped inside Robin. "And, maybe, if Georgie had been able to defend herself, she would be here today! TODAY! Don't tell ME that it's not a violent world out there! I know better and so do you! You need a reminder? Check out the ER sometime. Emma will be taught hand-to-hand self defense but, out of respect for your feelings on this issue, I'll wait until she's older to teach her how to shoot. And, THAT is final."
"I thought I knew you," Patrick said quietly.
“Obviously, there's a lot you don't know about me. I didn't exactly have the typical American childhood,” said Robin.
"This ... all this is coming out of left field for me."
"I'm sorry about blowing up like that. I'm not mad at you."
Patrick shook his head. "No, no, you're right. I needed a reality check. Teach her what you need to and whenever you want to. Just remind me about this conversation when I object, okay?"
"Deal," Robin said.
Patrick held their little girl in the air. "You're going to be the new Emma Peel, aren't you, sweetheart?" Little Emma gurgled happily at her parents.
At a scraping noise behind them, Robin forced Patrick and Emma under the table. She then removed the Asp pistol from the rack and assumed a firing position pointing at the wall by the couch which was slowly sliding open.
A man dressed in a worn overcoat, fisherman's cap, fingerless gloves and dark jeans stepped into the room. He raised his hands in the air at the sight of the gun. "Whoa there, Robin, it's me."
"Uncle Mac?" Robin put the gun down.
"Who else were you expecting? Santa Claus? This is MY secret room last I checked." Mac scanned the room. "You can come out from under the table, Patrick. Is that Emma with you?"
"There's a secret entrance, too," said an awed Patrick. "This IS like the bat cave."
Robin stored the pistol away. She studied Mac's outfit at leisure. "Since when do police commissioners go undercover?"
"It's a family tradition, niece of mine," Mac doffed his overcoat, hat and gloves. Under the coat, he had on a tatty sweater and wool scarf. The secret door closed behind him. "I just wanted to walk the docks incognito."
"You do this often?" Robin asked.
"Often enough," Mac said reaching for the baby. "And other things, too."
"Don't you have undercover cops for this sort of thing?" Patrick said handing Emma over to Mac.
"I do but they don't always have the right instincts for the docks. To smell trouble before it becomes serious. To notice when the criminal element is up to something serious."
"And you do?" Patrick questioned the older man.
Robin grinned. "Mac wasn't always the upstanding commissioner of police. I remember when I first met him. He was the man of danger and mystery. He came into town on a ship that exploded in the harbor. He had to jump overboard and swim to shore. Then him, my dad and mom had to go on the run for their lives. When they got back, my parents remarried and I got a real uncle in my life."
Mac gave Emma a big kiss on the forehead. "Those days are long behind me but I confess to missing them now and then."
"Running for your lives ... hmm ... seems to be a common theme in this family." Patrick noted.
Robin and Mac laughed. Mac added, "I call it low boredom threshold. It's in the DNA. We Scorpios don't like to be bored. I expect the Devane side of the equation is the same. What brings you around?"
"I wanted to tell you that another package was delivered to the house today." Robin said. Her face was serious and worried. "There IS something going on, isn't there?"
"I talked to Robby the other day. He knows what the first package is,” Mac explained. He cradled Emma in one arm like an expert. "Now this second package, is it the same as the first?"
"Yes, same size and lots of postmarks."
"It's not a problem then. Let me store it in my office and wait for Robby o
r Anna to open it."
"It's in the car. I'll go get it,” Patrick said. He left to get the package.
Once Patrick had left the room, Robin began her cross examination. "What's REALLY going on, Uncle Mac?"
"What makes you think something is going on?"
"Intuition. Besides you're tap dancing around my questions. What else did Dad say?"
"There were no more details, Robin, other than instructions to keep it safe. I was going to give it to the WSB but I've changed my mind." Mac said. "I will say that I think your intuition is on to something. I got the distinct impression we were not alone on the call."
Robin's expression turned thoughtful. "You think the phone was bugged?"
"I think someone was in the room with them. Someone they didn't tell me about."
"Are they in danger?"
"I don't think so. Your mom sounded fine. Happier than I've heard her in a long, long time. Robby, too, come to think of it."
"Mom hasn't left and Dad is still alive? They must be getting along. Hmm, what an interesting bit of news." Robin said. "I'm going to give Mom a call."
Mac chuckled. "Good luck getting information out of her. You know how tight-lipped she can get when she wants to be."
"Well, if she won't tell me anything, then I'll call Dad." said Robin with the knowing smile of an unrepentant Daddy's girl.