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In another timeline, Frank Langdon would have approached this Fourth of July as just another day in the office. He would go through his pre-day shift rituals as usual: six-mile run at 4:30am, shower, breakfast and coffee, then one of his playlists blasting during his drive to work. The moment he stepped onto the floor, he would get pulled in on a trauma, the adrenaline would start flowing, and he would start doing what he did best: saving lives.
In this timeline, though, Frank Langdon was entering the ER for his first shift back since That Day. Dread, not anticipation, was clogging his blood vessels, and he had to drag one foot in front of the other as he approached the lockers. The anxiety had started pooling in his stomach last night, staying all throughout dinner and keeping him from taking more than three bites of his breakfast sandwich this morning.
During the HR meetings leading up to his return, he’d been told his locker would be the same from before. Hearing the beep of his code unlock the door loosens his muscles a bit. He had known it would work, of course, but a small part of him had been expecting the worst. It’s a small win, but a win nonetheless.
He’s just placed the last of his things inside when he hears the squeak of someone’s sneakers behind him. And so it begins, he thinks, then takes a deep breath to brace himself before turning around.
It’s Cassie, smiling at him, her eyes soft and kind. “Hey, stranger,” she greets him.
They’ve been in contact while he’s been gone. She had shown up at the rehab center two weeks after he was admitted, then made it a point to come weekly, which was something he was more grateful for than she’d ever know. Now, she was somewhere between his unofficial sponsor (“I’ve got my own sobriety to worry about, idiot!” she’d said goodnaturedly, when he’d mentioned it in passing. And, well, fair.) and his best friend.
“Cassie,” he says in response, relief flooding his voice and his body. Thank God it wasn’t Santos or Dana or, God forbid, Robby. She’d told him that Robby wouldn’t be working today, but he still wasn’t entirely sure the universe had his back like that.
“You feeling okay about today?”
“Not at all,” he replies honestly, cracking a smile he doesn’t mean. She laughs anyway, a small kindness, and pulls out a Redbull from behind her back, extending it to him. It makes him want to cry, a bit. “Thanks.”
“So, you want the good news or the bad news first before we head out there?”
“Bad.”
She winces, biting her lip as she looks up at the ceiling. “Robby’s working today.” Okay, universe. Message received.
“Shit. What happened?”
She shrugs. “Scheduling conflict? Doesn’t matter anyways. Today’s his last shift before he goes off on his three-month sabbatical. Or mid-life crisis. However you wanna see it.”
“Okay.” He steels his shoulders. It’s just one shift. He’s been through worse. “Is that the good news?”
“Nope. The good news is that you’re on chairs with me.”
“What the hell? That’s not good news—that’s bad news disguised as good news. And how do you know that? We haven’t even done rounds yet.”
“Dana told me when I first got in. I think she thought you’d take it better if it was coming from me.” Well. Dana’s intuition was right, as usual. He and Dana had always gotten along, their sharp, sarcastic banter buoyed by mutual care and respect. But Dana was also Robby’s right-hand man, and he had a strong feeling she was likely number two on the list of people whom he’d disappointed the most in this place.
“Trust me, Frank,” Cassie says as they finally, slowly start making their way to the floor, her shoulder bumping against his reassuringly. “This’ll be good for you. It’ll help you ease back into things without feeling like everyone’s watching your every move.”
He scoffs at that, then pauses. “Wait. Cassie.” His voice gets lower, quieter, and he has to actively stop it from shaking when he asks, “Do a lot of people know why I was gone?”
She hesitates. “Hard to tell. As far as I know, the newbies definitely don’t. There were rumors, but Robby shut them down pretty quick. You should’ve seen him the day he overheard one of the MAs joke about starting a betting pool about why you were gone. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him scold somebody for that long.”
Huh. So Robby had kept it quiet. Mostly. Small mercies. He’ll take what he can get.
Robby’s already started talking in the huddle, so Frank and Cassie quietly slide in. Frank takes the opportunity to look around.
His eyes skim over most people, taking quick note of who he recognizes and who he doesn’t. When his gaze falls on Santos, his stomach drops, but he quickly moves on to the person next to her—Mel.
He finds she’s already looking at him, their eyes locking. Hi, she mouths at him, and the tension in his chest eases a bit. The corner of his mouth quirks up and he mouths a hello back.
As they round, thoughts of how long this shift’s going to be start to pile up in Frank’s mind, threatening to push him into a panic, so he takes to one of the coping strategies he’s adopted over the past ten months: going through a mental list of the positives in his life. It’s not exactly perfect, but it gets the job done most of the time.
I am alive, is how it starts. I am sober. My kids are happy and healthy. I get to keep practicing medicine. Not everybody hates me. Cassie’s in my corner, and so is—
He’s brought back to reality by the sound of Robby clearing his throat. “And, uh, last but not least. As some of you may know, Dr. Langdon took some time off, but today’s his first official day back with us here in the Pitt, so let’s make sure we give him a warm welcome back, alright? Any questions?” Robby looks around the circle, noticeably skipping over Frank. “Okay, then that’s it. I will be at Central if you need me. Go.”
Well. That wasn’t as painful as it could have been. It was still awkward, but. Small wins and small mercies is the mantra Frank’s decided on for today.
Everyone disperses and Frank turns to Cassie. “Ready for the time of your life?” she asks teasingly but he can see concern in her eyes.
He smiles back at her, a little more genuine than the one he’d flashed at the lockers. Cassie’s in my corner. “Born ready.”
***
God, he hates working chairs. He forgot how tedious it was, dealing with the coughs and fevers and wounds that needed five stitches before they were sent on their merry way. It doesn’t help that Cassie’s not even with him anymore, after Dana had called her back to help with traumas two hours into their shift.
Every time a trauma rolls in, everything in Frank’s body yearns to jump towards the gurney, to feel the blood rushing through his veins as the EMTs give them the rundown on the patient before they start working on them.
But he knows this is his cross to bear. This is part of his punishment and his reparations for what he had done, and if he has to be on chairs for the next two months to show he is a team player, then he’ll do it. Even if he can feel eyes on him every time he looks up, even though some of the newer faces approach him like they’re approaching a feral animal when they have a question and he’s the nearest doctor (so much for shutting down rumors, he thinks), he knows he can do this.
Working triage away from everyone has definitely helped ease his initial anxiety, just as Cassie had predicted. On the flip side, though, he finds himself moving slower, second-guessing diagnoses and treatment plans he wouldn’t have even in his R1 year.
He keeps his head down, determined to push through the frustration. The patients keep coming, and so do the doubts, but he shakes them off. He’s practically an expert at tuning out anything that isn’t a clinical case. Or at least, he used to be.
Unfortunately, everyone has a breaking point, and Frank Langdon’s is apparently this: four hours in, a hushed conversation between Robby and Dana, who don’t realize he’s sat down at the computer behind them at Central to order some labs.
“Things are getting pretty crazy back here, and Langdon’s gotten us as on track as we’ll ever be in chairs. You sure you don’t want to pull him out of triage to help out?”
Frank keeps his eyes on the screen, but he can’t process any of the words in front of him. He’s listening hard, even though every cell in his body is screaming at him to walk away in an act of self-preservation. He’s nothing if not a masochist, really.
“No,” Robby says firmly.
“Robby,” Dana starts, but she quickly gets cut off.
“I said no, Dana. We’re doing just fine without him.” There’s a tenseness to Robby’s voice and to his posture, and Frank knows that Robby felt betrayed by what he’d done, and that their relationship may never be repaired or restored to how it was before, but.
But Frank’s put in the work over the last ten months, the hardest goddamn ten months of his life—he went to rehab and his marriage ended and he only sees his kids two days a week now, which is often the only thing that gets him out of bed in the mornings, and he knows he still has a long way to go, but he’s trying. He’s trying his best, and he wants to scream that at them and anyone else who will listen.
He knows there are more patients to see, but there are always patients, and Dana said so herself that they were on track, and Frank can feel his chest growing tighter and his hands getting sweatier with every passing second, so he pushes back from the computer, dropping a pen and a highlighter and a notepad in the process, but he doesn’t care.
The clattering objects grab Dana and Robby’s attention, but he doesn’t care about that either. He storms away from the desk, from Dana and Robby, from the floor. He hightails it past the lockers, sensing Mel in his periphery as he goes.
She opens her mouth to say something, her hand reaching out as if to grab him, but he’s moving too fast, slamming his way out of the exit doors. He doesn’t stop moving until he’s cut through the ambulance bay and around the corner, finding a low brick wall he can lean back against and not be found.
We’re doing just fine without him.
“Fuck,” he mutters. His hands are shaking now, breaths coming faster and shorter. We’re doing just fine without him. He sinks into a crouch, interlocking his hands behind his neck, and tries to focus on his breathing.
It takes a few tries, but he settles into the box-breathing technique his therapist taught him, repeating it over and over until his heart rate’s calmed down and his chest feels like it’s returned to its normal capacity.
With steadier hands, he pulls out his phone and opens up his messages with Abby. This morning, she’d sent him a picture of the kids grinning at the camera, holding up a sign that read, “Good luck today, Daddy!” His heart had shattered and mended simultaneously seeing it, and he’d needed to place his phone facedown on the bathroom counter and cry before he could finish getting ready.
He stares at the photo for a while, letting the smiles on his kids’ faces bring him some comfort before he gets the courage to head back in.
“Frank?”
He startles. Looking up, he sees Mel, her brows knitted in concern, and his tension eases. “Mel,” he says, straightening up and tucking his phone back in his pocket.
“Are you okay?” she asks, taking a step closer.
“I–yeah. Yes. I just needed a breather.”
He takes a seat on the brick wall, leaving enough space for her to join him. She does, close enough that he can feel the heat from her skin, despite them not touching.
“You know, for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing great so far.”
He laughs dryly. “Yeah, nothing like UTIs and vomiting to really challenge someone.”
“I mean it. Coming back, having to work with Robby today when you weren’t expecting to—it’s very admirable.”
“Well, thanks.” He nudges her gently. “I’m glad to know you’ve got my back.”
“Always.” She’s quiet for a moment. “I do have to tell you something, and you might not like it.” He raises an eyebrow, then gestures for her to continue. “I know you wanted to have some time alone to prepare yourself, but I didn’t like that you made me go in first without you this morning after we carpooled.”
He laughs, a real one this time. “I figured, and I’m sorry for that, sweetheart.” He sighs. “It wasn’t just that I wanted some time for myself. I guess I just thought…Well, to tell you the truth, I thought you probably shouldn’t be seen walking in with me.”
Mel makes a confused noise, trying to process. “Why not?”
Frank scoffs self-deprecatingly. “I’m a divorced, recovering addict who was stealing pills from patients. You’re a stellar resident and doctor, and I’m sure Robby doesn’t want me negatively influencing your reputation.”
“Well, that’s not really fair. You’re a good doctor and you were a good teacher to me before you left. You definitely made some mistakes—” At this, Frank laughs. “Mistakes” is a nice way of putting it. “—but you chose to put in the work to get better. And you still are.”
Frank opens his mouth to speak, but Mel’s not done. “It’s not fair to me, either. I’m not talking about Robby, by the way. I’m talking about you,” she clarifies, and Frank feels like he’s been stabbed in the heart. “I think if I’m able to treat patients on my own, I’m able to choose who I’m friends with. And I chose you, Frank.”
She lets out a long breath, wringing her hands in her lap. Frank aches to reach out and lay his hand over hers. “Mel,” he says softly, but she shakes her head. Then, she looks up at him, eyes boring into his.
Her voice is firm when she says, “I made the choice to visit you while you were in rehab, and I made the choice to keep visiting you. I also made the choice to stay in contact with you after you got out, and to introduce you to Becca, and to keep you in my life.”
Frank swallows the lump in his throat. “Mel,” he says again, hoarsely.
“People can say and think what they want. All that matters is what you and I know.” She stands, turning around to face him. “And I can defend myself, if and when it comes down to it.”
Frank cracks a smile at this, taking in the sight of her backlit by the sun and staring at him with conviction in her eyes. “Yeah, I know you can.”
She smiles at him, and he tucks it away into the box at the back of his brain labeled Melissa King. “Okay then. I’ll see you inside?”
He nods. “I’m right behind you,” he responds, and watches her go.
***
Frank and Mel’s friendship had properly kicked off with her visiting him in rehab.
He’d walked into the visiting area expecting Cassie, but instead it was Mel. She looked nervous, her hands clasped in front of her as she stood upon his approach.
“Hi, Dr. Langdon,” she said.
“Mel.”
After the initial hell of withdrawal, the chills and the vomiting and the sweating, he’d spent a lot of time thinking about That Day. Thinking about where it all went wrong, about how he’d been on a slippery slope since he was prescribed pills for his back, cursing himself for deciding not to pay for movers all those months ago.
And then, in the middle of his dark recollections, there was Mel. The one bright spot of That Day. Her excitement over her first day in the Pitt, her eagerness to not only learn, but to learn from him. He remembered watching her with Terrance, feeling like this woman, this clearly brilliant and kind and capable doctor, was going to change his life somehow. He thought of the MCI, the chaos of treating and saving as many victims as possible, forgetting all the thoughts of what would happen to his medical career once things settled, and her elated “You’re here!” reaching him like a beacon from across the room.
He’d spent so much time thinking about her on That Day, he couldn’t help but stare at her in the visiting room, not fully believing she wasn’t a figment of his imagination.
“I hope it’s okay that I’m here,” she said, when he didn’t say anything else.
The uncertainty in her voice shook him out of his stupor, and he nodded, taking a step closer. “Yeah. Yes, it’s okay. It’s good to see you.” He gestured for her to take a seat, then sat across from her.
“It’s good to see you, too. Work hasn’t been the same without you.” His stomach dropped hearing her words. She continued, oblivious. “You were a good part of that first shift. I mean, I appreciated you helping me get my bearings that day.”
He swallowed hard. “I, uh, I’m glad. Although I think you would have done great regardless.”
She offered him a tentative smile, and he couldn’t help but smile back. “Thank you.”
Underneath the table, she shifted her legs, knocking over a bag filled with items he couldn’t discern. “Oh!” She reached down and lifted it from the ground, setting it on the table between them. “I brought you a few things. Like snacks and reading materials to help keep you up-to-date on everything. I asked Dr. McKay what you might like.”
Frank had nearly cried the first time Cassie visited. He’d been fine until the very end, when they’d both stood up and Cassie had taken his hands in hers and said, with way more emotion than he was prepared for, “I promise it gets easier. You just gotta keep going. You’re gonna be okay, Frank.” She sounded so sure that he hadn’t been able to do anything but pull her into a tight hug.
And he was on the verge of tears again. There Mel was, extending him kindness like Cassie had, and he knew he hadn't done anything in his goddamn life to deserve it from either of them, yet he was so damn grateful to have it anyway.
Mel’s bag contained Vitamin Water (acai-blueberry and tropical citrus), Clif bars (peanut butter banana and chocolate brownie), sour candy (Sour Patch Kids and rainbow strips), and those flat pretzel chips (original). She’d included a couple of medical journals and a notebook, and finally a little plastic pencil pouch containing pens, pencils, highlighters, and sticky tabs. The pouch had a pattern of red crosses and stethoscopes on it. It made him smile when he noticed it.
He waved the notebook in her direction. “Is this for me to take notes on what I read in the journals? Are you expecting me to present my findings to you, Dr. King?”
“Oh, uh, no,” she said, frowning. “I don’t think that’s necessary. Besides, I’m not your superior, so I wouldn’t be able to evaluate you or anything.”
“It was a joke,” he clarified, smiling again.
“Oh. Got it.” She hesitated before explaining, “It’s actually for you to write down your thoughts and feelings.” Frank couldn’t help it—his smile dropped. “You don’t have to, of course, but I’ve found that journaling is a good way to process my thoughts and feelings, especially at the end of a tough day.”
“Yeah, that makes sense. It might be easier for me to express my feelings to my journal than to my therapist, anyways.”
At this, she brightened. “I think it’s great that you’re in therapy, too.”
He shrugged, setting the notebook off to the side. Therapy was, so far, fifty minutes of him sitting on a couch fiddling with a bracelet that said “Dad,” unsure if he even deserved to have that title anymore but desperately wanting it anyway.
He changed the subject, hoping she either wouldn’t notice or wouldn’t call him out on it. “So, tell me, have you had any interesting cases recently?”
She stayed until the sun started to set, telling him she had to get Becca in time for dinner. They both stood, and she smiled brightly at him, much more comfortable than she had been two hours ago. He was, too, he realized.
“Thank you for coming,” he told her sincerely, touching the bag they’d re-packed with Mel’s gifts.
“Of course. Take care, Dr. Langdon.”
“Mel, please. You’ve visited me in rehab, I think you can call me Frank.”
“Okay. Take care, Frank.” It jolted him a bit, to hear it. She smiled at him again before she turned to go, then stopped and faced him. His shoulders tensed. She glanced at the bag before flicking her gaze up to his. “You should try the journal. At least once.” And then she’d taken off before he could respond.
I’m gonna hate it, he thought, looking down at the bag again once she’d disappeared from view. (Two weeks later, he asked if she could bring him a new notebook the next time she came to visit. She beamed at him and happily said yes.)
***
Frank signed his divorce papers on a Saturday.
He and Abby had turned to each other at the courthouse doors once they’d exited, neither of them saying a word. The silence felt like it lasted hours, until Abby finally cleared her throat.
“So I’ll text you about when you can come over to see the kids on Saturday, then?”
It would be his second time seeing the kids since he’d finished rehab. Abby didn’t trust him enough yet for the visits to be unsupervised, so they were taking place at the house he used to live in, where Abby and his kids still lived.
For the first visit, he had come for dinner, and Abby had been kind enough to let him put the kids to bed. After bathtime, he let them each choose one book to read, and they’d both fallen asleep curled up against him. When he realized, he’d pressed his nose to Tanner’s head, then Stella's, breathing in the smell of their shampoo so deeply it hurt. Then he tucked them into their beds, said a quick goodbye to Abby, and got in his car and googled the nearest NA meeting, hands shaking.
In front of the courthouse, Frank nodded, and Abby took the tiniest step closer. He didn’t know if she wanted to hug him or shake his hand, or maybe flip him off, honestly, but then she stepped back. Her eyes had welled up with tears—God, how much of her tears had he been responsible for over the past few months, years even?—and he had to fight the well-worn urge to draw her into his arms. He’d lost that privilege a long time ago.
“Goodbye, Frank.” She wrapped her arms around herself and turned from him, walking away before he could do or say anything.
Frank drove home in a trance. When he entered his apartment, newly renovated and barely furnished, he sat down on the couch and stared at the wall. Then, unexpectedly, he started crying. It started off as a few silent streams of tears before it started building up and up and up until he was sobbing, his chest heaving and aching as he mourned his marriage, his kids, himself.
When his crying finally ceased, Frank looked around and knew he couldn’t be alone. He grabbed his keys and left his sad, empty apartment behind. Cassie was working, but Mel had the day off. He knew Becca was at the center for a movie marathon weekend, and his qualms about showing up at Mel’s door unannounced were eased by the memory of her text to him that morning.
He’d told her about it a week earlier, not expecting her to remember. But of course she had. Her text had come through just minutes before he’d woken up. Let me know if you need anything today, Frank. I’m here for you.
Ten minutes later, she opened her door, taking in the sight of his red-rimmed eyes, and ushered him in immediately. She settled him down on the couch, asking him if he wanted a cup of tea. He nodded and she quickly shuffled into the kitchen.
He closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of her moving around the kitchen like it was his own personal lullaby. When she came back a few minutes later, she touched his knee gently to get his attention. After handing him his mug, she sat down next to him and grabbed the TV remote.
“Movie?” she asked. He nodded, and watched as she scrolled through her streaming services, eventually ending on Mrs. Doubtfire.
They watched at least four movies that day, and Frank could remember nothing besides her sitting inches away from him on the couch, not talking yet offering him solace all the same.
***
Almost a month before he was supposed to come back, Mel texted him with two hours left in her shift. He had been standing in front of his open fridge, trying to figure out what he could cobble together for dinner with the few groceries he had left; his and Mel’s weekly shopping trip was in two days, and he didn’t want to stray from that routine by going early. He dug his phone out of his pocket and opened her messages.
Hi
Would you be able to come over after my shift?
His senses had heightened immediately. It was usually him texting her asking if she wanted to hang out, not wanting to intrude on her decompression time after work.
of course, he responded. everything okay?
His fridge beeped at him, having been open for too long, but he ignored it. He rocked in place impatiently, watching as the bubbles appeared and disappeared.
Not really.
Shit. It must’ve been a bad shift if she was openly admitting it instead of reassuring him that she was fine.
do you want me to pick up becs so you can go straight home?
What he really wanted to do was get in his car and drive to the hospital right then and there, to pull her out of the shift and let her recover from whatever shit she’d been dealing with while he made sure she was fine. But he knew she had certain things she liked to do after a stressful shift, and that she didn’t get to do them often enough because she had Becca to worry about. So the least he could do was give her that time and space, for once.
Yes, please. Thank you.
He’d let out a long breath reading her text, which all but confirmed for him that this shift was particularly Bad. Even on her more stressful days, it took a little more insistence and prodding on his part for her to accept his help. He finally shut his fridge and headed toward his bedroom, thinking he could get a run and a shower and maybe a FaceTime call with the kids in before it was time for him to get Becca.
Thankfully, Becca had been too excited to see him to question why Mel wasn’t there. She spent the drive to the apartment telling him all about the new knitting workshop at the center, and how she’d started to make a scarf for Mel that was turning out really well.
When they entered the apartment, using the key Mel had hidden underneath the doormat, it was quiet, the lights in the entryway and the living area shut off. He found Mel in her bedroom, lying down with her headphones on and a mask over her eyes. He could faintly smell her shampoo, and the room was slightly humid from the shower steam trailing out of her bathroom.
Becca had followed him down the hallway and he gently nudged her back towards the living room, shutting Mel’s door. “Let’s let Mel rest for a bit. We can get started on dinner, okay, Becs?”
Becca hesitated, brows furrowed at Mel’s closed door. “Okay,” she said anyway, a bit uncertainly, and walked with him back to the common area. She promptly sat down on the floor, back against the couch, and grabbed her bracelet-making kit, telling him she was going to make one for Mel.
Mel emerged from her room about an hour later, just as he was finishing up the spaghetti. (His repertoire was simple and limited, sue him.) She sat down on the couch next to Becca, meeting his eyes and managing a small smile, which he returned before he started gathering the dishes for dinner.
Mel didn’t say much while they ate, but was mostly attentive while Frank and Becca chatted. She said yes when he asked if she wanted to watch a movie with them, and had begrudgingly complied when he nudged her toward the living room after she tried to help him clean up.
Later, after they had finished the movie and Becca disappeared into her room, Mel turned to Frank and said, “Thank you. For picking up Becca and taking care of dinner.”
Frank smiled gently at her. “Happy to help. I’m glad you asked.” He watched Mel fiddle with a strand of her hair, which was loose and flowing over her shoulders. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“It felt like I lost more patients than I saved today. A lot was happening, and all I could think about was how much I wanted to see you. How I always want to see you after I finish a shift.” She sighed, looking down at the blanket tucked around her legs, and pressed on before Frank could formulate a proper response to her admission. “Two of my patients coded out of nowhere, and one of them is in the ICU now but the other one didn’t make it. Then right before my shift ended, we had a mom and two daughters in an MVC. The older daughter is the only one who survived but she’s in a coma right now, so when she wakes up, she’s going to find out she lost her mom and her sister all at once.”
Somewhere in the middle of her explanation, Mel started crying, and Frank longed to reach out and pull her into his arms. They worked a difficult job, and some days were harder than others, and sometimes no words could ease the pain of losing their patients. “Sweetheart,” he murmured, feeling helpless.
Mel ended up surprising him and bridged the gap, leaning forward to tuck her face into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close and cradling her head with his hand. He wanted to build a bubble around them where nothing bad could happen, where he could hold her for as long as she’d let him, where she could be safe and happy forever, and he could play a big role in keeping her that way.
She stayed in his arms until her tears turned to sniffles, then eventually stopped altogether. When her breathing evened out, she pulled away from him. He felt the loss of her immediately, and had to fight every cell in his body to not reach for her again.
“Oh, God,” she said, rubbing her eyes and looking down at his shirt, where there was now a wet patch from her tears. “I’m so sorry.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” he reassured her. She avoided his gaze, and he leaned in closer to meet her eyes. “Really, Mel, it happens to all of us. I think your patients are lucky to have a doctor who cares so much about them. It’s much better than the alternative.”
She let his words sink in for a moment before she managed a smile, shaky and small, but he’d take what he could get.
“Okay?” he asked, feeling more at ease when she nodded. “Do you want me to stay or leave?”
Mel wanted him to stay, and his heart soared hearing her say it. They watched a few episodes of Parks and Rec, the volume turned low, until Mel was leaning heavily against his shoulder, slowly drifting off to sleep.
“Mel,” he whispered, nudging her awake. “You should get to bed.”
She whined a bit before letting out a huge yawn. He laughed, standing up and taking her hands, pulling her up from the couch as well. “Come on. Lock the door behind me.”
He made his way to the door, grabbing his keys and his wallet from the dish on the entryway table. She followed blearily, letting out another yawn.
“Text me when you wake up?” he asked, opening the door.
She nodded. “I will. Thank you again, Frank. Have a good night.”
“Good night, Mel.” He stepped out and let the door shut, waiting for the telltale sign of the lock turning before he made his way to his car.
He didn’t drive off immediately, choosing to sit in his car and take a few deep breaths, resting his forehead against the steering wheel. I always want to see you after a shift, she’d said. It’d been replaying in his head since he’d heard it.
Frank always wanted to see her, too. Very quickly, Mel had become the first person he thought about in the morning and the last thing he thought about before he went to sleep. In the early stages of their friendship, after he got out of rehab, he’d begun texting her any time he got the urge, which—especially since he didn’t have work or his kids to keep him preoccupied—was pretty often. But she’d responded in kind, making sure to address every message he sent, and eventually double- and triple-texting him herself.
She started asking him for his thoughts on new research articles she found, walking through her cases with him over the phone and explaining her thought processes for each treatment. It helped her to talk about them, he knew, but he wasn’t sure if she realized it helped him too. Their text messages and their phone calls, about her cases but also anything else they could think of, kept him connected to medicine and, more importantly, from focusing too hard on the mistakes he’d made and everything he had to do to make up for them.
***
The kind of connection he and Mel had was inexplicable. He’d felt it on that first day, and over the past ten months, as their friendship grew, as he came to know her and she came to know him just as well, it’d become undeniable, at least to him. Cassie might be his best friend, but Mel is his person.
She chose to be friends with him and he chose her, too. It wasn’t fair of him to assume she’s friends with him out of pity or to minimize their friendship because of his own personal issues. Sure, her association with him could raise some eyebrows—that was just an unfortunate side effect of the job, the politics of it all. But not only did he know that she could stand up for herself, but also that her brilliance as a doctor would be more than enough to keep her in high regard.
He thinks of this as he watches her walk back in, trusting that he’s following her even without looking back. It’s what gives him the courage to stand up and head back into the fray. At the very least, he knows he’s got Cassie and Mel, and that will be what gets him through.
When he gets back onto the floor after stopping in the bathroom to splash some water on his face, Mel’s already getting pulled into a trauma room, but she manages to catch his eye before she goes in. She gives him a reassuring smile, and he gives her a quick thumbs-up before she disappears.
Dana’s eyes are on him when he returns to Central, the supplies he’d dropped earlier placed neatly next to the computer. He’s not sure if she saw the exchange between him and Mel or not, but frankly, he doesn’t care at the moment.
He settles back at the same computer, planning to finish ordering those labs from before. A hand holding his can of Redbull enters his vision, and he looks up, surprised to see Dana peering at him. She’s got a soft smile on her face, and there may be a hint of sadness or disappointment behind it, but it’s still kind, kind enough to make him take the Redbull, muttering a “thanks.”
She rounds the desk, passing behind him as she heads towards Princess and Perlah, who are whispering conspiratorially and watching them. Her hands land on his shoulders and she squeezes once. “Keep your head up, kid. I’m rooting for ya.”
The rest of his shift goes about as smoothly as any shift in the ER can go. At the end of it, he hands his cases off to Abbot, who claps him on the shoulder and gruffly says, “Good to have you back, man,” before dismissing him. It makes him feel lighter than he cares to admit.
When Mel appears in the hall, he’s already waiting for her, backpack over his shoulders, leaning against the locker next to hers.
“Hi,” she says, punching in her code.
“Hi,” he replies. “How was the rest of your shift?”
He reaches out and holds her braid between two fingers. She blushes as he tugs on it gently, loosening the hair tie. “Frank,” she says, trying to sound stern, but a smile appears on her face anyway as she pulls the braid out of his grasp and starts to grab her things. “It was fine. I got to do a STEMI with Dr. Mohan.”
“Didn’t beat our time, though, I hope?” Frank asks, half-joking.
“To be honest, I don’t remember what our time was.” He places a hand over his chest, appearing wounded, and she laughs, shutting her locker.
He pushes himself to stand up straight. “Ready to go, then?”
She looks surprised, then pleased. “You’re actually okay with people seeing us walk out together?” Her voice is light, teasing, but he still detects a hint of uncertainty in it, and it makes his stomach lurch. He truly hadn’t meant to make her feel insecure or unsure about their friendship this morning, but at least now he’s trying to make up for it. Baby steps, he thinks.
“Yeah, sweetheart. I am.” He starts making his way towards the exit, tilting his head for her to follow. She falls into step next to him, shoulder brushing his arm, and he smiles.
“What if someone says something?”
He hums. “They can talk. What matters is what you and I know.” He echoes her earlier words, and her face softens hearing them.
“And what is that?”
“That Becca’s waiting for us to pick her up.” She laughs, playfully pushing him away. He falls right back into her easily, like a magnet finding true north. “That we’re friends,” he says, more seriously now. “And that we hang out together outside of work and are now carpool buddies, since the prodigal son has returned.” He nudges her gently. “That sound good?”
She nods, smiling as the doors open and they step out of the hospital together. “Yeah, it does.”