Chapter Text
September
The air had never felt so frigid to Frank Langdon.
Frank felt as if he were enduring an arctic winter, his skin feeling like ice as he stood outside of Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Hospital ER with a feeling of hopelessness engulfing him. He was now alone and an idiot for allowing himself to end up unsupported. His pride, unaddressed fear, and pure arrogance…his weak belief that he could handle his life himself…had cost him everything.
Exhaling softly, Frank reached up and silently rubbed his left eye with his hand until all of the concealer came off, revealing an ugly bruise that was all the way around his eye and extended down to his cheek. There was no point in hiding his face now…now that he was alone.
Abby had made him wear the concealer to hide her gift from him after she had sent him back to the hospital to get the drugs from his locker, the drugs he had promised her. He had tried to tell her that Dr. Robinavitch had taken them, and he was now fired, but Abby had gotten aggressive and her punch, like all of her punches, had landed and she had warned him to get the drugs so she could sell them. Her customers expected them and she expected him to come through. If he cared so much about her, Abby had yelled, why wasn’t he willing to help her with her business?
They had gone back and forth for a while and then Abby had told him to think about their children: the money from the drugs was going to help them because they couldn’t afford to. Frank had asked her if she even cared about the fact that he was killing his career over helping her and could also be arrested for stealing drugs for the purpose of selling them. Abby, however, had not been swayed and had aggressively reminded him that he had also benefitted from her business as a customer, taking pain meds when his back flared up and then also taking for withdrawals when he realized his body hadn’t handled the prescribed meds well and he had been forced to quit them cold turkey so he wouldn’t get sick or have a heart attack. That decision to quit cold turkey, Frank knew, had been stupid, and his decision to medicate himself had been stupid. Hell, all of his decisions had been stupid, but Santos’s tattling and Robby’s reaction to finding the meds in his locker…he had felt trapped into keeping quiet and had decided to stay trapped because he felt nobody would understand.
Not caring about his poor excuses, Abby had nailed him in the face, sent him out the door, and told him not to come back without the meds even if it meant he spent the night on the street. Frank had gone back to the hospital while working up the courage to tell the truth about everything when he had come across the chaos from PittFest. After that dust had settled, his fear and anxiety had led him to get arrogant with Robby and things had gone to hell pretty fast…
And now, as Frank stood there, trying to debate whether or not he should tell someone…anyone…the truth, his cellphone began to buzz in his pocket as if Abby had read his mind and knew that he was tempted to come clean to his former colleagues.
Sighing anxiously, Frank plucked the phone from the pocket of his scrub pants and answered the call. What greeted him was a cold chuckle.
“Did you get them, Frank?” Abby’s cold voice filled the phone. “Did you?!”
Frank began to sweat profusely, much like he had during work, and it was as if Abby could see through the phone, “Of course you didn’t get them, you weakling,” Abby snarled, nothing but venom in her voice. “Turn around.”
Swallowing hard, Frank did as he was told and froze when he caught sight of two very tall, very husky shadows standing in the shadows of the emergency room entrance, just out of sight, “I suspected you’d fail, Frank, so I decided to send a couple of my dealers to teach you a lesson…”
Without waiting for Abby to finish, Frank began to run as fast as he could away from the hospital because he didn’t want to risk anyone there getting hurt if the dealers happened to be armed. They had all already been through enough that day with the trauma of PittFest and everything that had happened after that. He knew he was leaving himself vulnerable and away from help by running away from the hospital, but he figured Robby had already declared him to be a lost cause and had gotten him fired anyway, so what was the use of asking for help now? Everyone who he actually cared about had given up on him and he couldn’t protect his kids because Abby was always threatening to leave and take them with her if he didn’t turn a blind eye to her business and help when he was asked to. His marriage was abusive, he hated it, and he wanted nothing more than to leave, but he loved his children and so he had stayed and his anxiety from home and his bad way of dealing with it had popped through at work, ultimately destroying his access to the one place he considered safe from his unsafe home and family life.
He needed to be a doctor, and he needed to work within the safety of the hospital for refuge from home, Frank knew, but his needs didn’t matter now. He was going to die. Even if he outran the two dealers that Abby had sent to follow him to The Pitt, she would simply send more after him because she knew most of the dealers throughout the city and most of them had weapons or the ability to beat people until they died or gave whatever was required of them…
An arm suddenly wrapped around his neck, yanking Frank off the ground and profanity filled his ear. He had been caught. As the arm continued to hold him in a headlock above the ground, Frank felt another pair of hands going through the pockets of his scrub pants and tearing them.
Even though he knew it was a stupid idea, Frank began to kick and felt his legs connect with something, so he continued to kick and started thrashing even though he knew his air supply was running low and the one holding him could also simply snap his neck if he got pissed enough.
Suddenly, Frank felt himself being dropped to the ground and as his left arm was twisted behind him, he felt his back being kicked repeatedly by a hard piece of footwear…most likely a steel-toed boot. A crack and a pop subsequently filled the air and at the same time, Frank felt a boot connect with his abdomen right before he felt a hand yank his head back by gripping hold of his hair. A fist quickly connected with his nose before his face was slammed into what felt like a rocky path. Finally, a boot connected with the side of his head, sending intense pain through his skull.
Rapid footsteps immediately filled the air after the fact as the dealers tore off into the night with their hands full of all of the cash in Frank Langdon’s wallet and his credit cards, things that they had taken as payment for his failure. They would of course get Frank’s credit cards back to Abby, as she used them to feed herself and her children and to also finance her work, but they would keep the cash as compensation for the strenuous effort that it was to tail Frank and teach him the lesson that Abby had requested her wayward husband learn. It had been an effort that had pulled them off of their selling corners and had also resulted in minor injuries for each of them, as Frank fighting back had been unexpected. He didn’t fight with his fists at home, according to Abby, so teaching him a lesson should have been easy…but Frank had proven an unexpected challenge.
Unsure if the dealers had gone or not, Frank slowly lifted his head, but his neck immediately screamed in protest. He could see his wallet and his phone laying on the ground just ahead of where he was laying and the wallet looked like it had been rifled through, but his vision was slightly blurry from the loss of oxygen he had experienced and from being kicked in the head, so he wasn’t entirely sure what was missing from it. Gasping weakly, Frank tried to get up to get his wallet and phone, but his left arm wasn’t responding to his brain’s want to get up off the dirty ground. In fact, he couldn’t feel his left arm at all.
I’m in trouble. Frank thought anxiously as he lay there, realizing he had been an idiot for many, many reasons, including running away from the hospital and the help that was there…help that could have saved his life. He immediately extended his right arm, ignored the pain he felt from the movement, and attempted to drag himself forward to his phone with his arm extended towards it, fully intending to call 9-1-1 for help out of his predicament, but his back suddenly screamed in protest and refused to accommodate his brain’s demand to move. More pain also shot through his neck, forcing him to lower his head and take his eyes off of his phone and wallet. God. I shouldn’t have run. Frank thought as he lay there, completely helpless and struggling through the pain rocketing through every part of his body. Tears filled his eyes, but crying only increased the pain he was feeling and it was also becoming more and more difficult to breathe. He had to stop himself from crying, Frank knew, and conserve his oxygen, but the pain and his grief was so overwhelming…
Oh, God, Robby…I lost my fight. I lost. I’m sorry. I should have listened to you. Frank thought, his mind on his former mentor and friend as he lay there, fighting for air and consciousness. I killed my friendships, I killed my job, and now I’m dying alone. I’m dying for someone who didn’t really love me. Robby, please forgive me. God…if there is a God out there…please forgive me for going along with Abby’s idea and putting up with her business and her abuse. I was doing it to feed and protect my kids from whatever horrors they might have faced out…out wherever she would have taken them had I made the decision to break away. I was drowning myself because of Abby’s abuse and demand that I compromise my job to help her, but my kids…they’re innocent. They needed protection. Santos did the right thing by turning me in, but I wish I had shared the whole story with Robby when we were talking outside. I screwed up, though. I just deflected, ignored my problems and need for help, and instead pushed my friend away. I even tried to downplay my problems to Dana and get her on my side and turned against Robby even though I should have been real with her. I should have also apologized…to everyone…for everything. I’m a failure, I’m a liar, I was drowning, and now I’m dying. I’m dying, I’m alone, and nobody is going to find or help me…
Suddenly, Frank felt himself vomit, and he quickly began to feel dizzy. Oh, God. He thought anxiously. This is it. I’m going to die. I destroyed my life and now I’m dying in hell. A hell I made for myself. I’m so arrogant and weak and scared and anxious and now I’m paying for it. I’m…
As darkness claimed Frank, his cell-phone suddenly began to ring and light up with caller ID.
The name on the screen was none other than Dr. Michael Robinavitch, who was identified by his nickname ‘Robby' on the caller ID.
Frank, of course, had no idea Robby was calling him and reaching out to finish their conversation because Frank was no longer aware of anything at all.