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In the end, Frank takes a six-month leave of absence from PTMC. He completes three months of inpatient rehab and two months of outpatient. Then moves to a schedule of NA meetings three times a week, with twice-weekly drug tests.
He’s clean now.
And he gets it.
He gets that he brought this mess on himself. He gets that he needs to take accountability for his actions. Sitting in a circle of folding chairs spilling out your most shameful moments to a room of strangers day after day will do that to you.
Frank gets that things are broken because he broke them.
The closer he gets to his return date to work, the more the idea looms in his mind. He broke his own life. He broke it with pills and hiding and lying. And he can try to fix things. The program talks about forgiveness and making amends with those he hurt in his addiction. Which sounds nice on paper, but Frank knows the truth. For some people in his life — some people like Robby— they might just be broken forever no matter what Frank does.
Frank doesn’t like to think about that. Once he does, the panic that bubbles up in him feels too close to the same one that boiled over the day Robby found out about the pills. (No — too passive. Be more exact, more truthful.) The day his boss, friend, and mentor confronted him with the truth that he was stealing drugs from his patients. A truth that Frank could barely look in the face then. Now every morning, Frank looks himself in the mirror and forces himself to see that truth.
He fucked his whole life.
He might not get it back.
It took him hours of staring at the cracks in the ceiling of his room in rehab and listening to his roommate snore to admit that truth. Even more hours, to admit that that losing Robby’s trust hurt the most. Not Abby moving out of their home and taking Tanner to her mom’s. Not the letter from her saying that she planned to file for divorce. He’d just felt numb then. The divorce was the inevitable wave crashing into him and he was still standing. He’d gone to a meeting, talked about it in therapy, processed and moved on — limping but not out.
It was Robby that kept him up into the early hours, wishing he’d chosen a different path. Maybe that was just because if he wasn’t a doctor then he didn’t know who he was. Robby had been his champion. The one who saw the ability to not just be a good doctor but a great doctor in him. Frank fucked that up with one (OK, many — taking accountability) bad decisions.
He has it more under control now. He only lets the guilt wash over him for a few minutes each day, instead of spending sleepless strung out hours ruminating on it.
Robby has to forgive him.
He can’t make him, but Frank will find a way —even if he has to beg and cry, thoroughly embarrass himself. He’ll be the best doctor in the department. He’ll work doubles for months. He’ll prove that Robby can trust him, can be his friend again.
He lets the feeling overtake him until his brain shorts out. Then after the panic is almost too much to bear, like it’s going to take him over in one wave of icy death, Frank shoves that feeling back in the box and goes about his day. He makes his smoothie for breakfast. He goes for a run. He does his yoga and holds down dog until his arms ache. He listens to his podcasts (he’s still a doctor dammit; he still has to keep up on the current research; they’ll let him see patients again one day). Showers. Eats. Goes to meetings and talks about his feelings.
You get good at compartmentalizing in the ED. Frank’s a pro now.
The night before his first shift back, he barely sleeps and wakes feeling like there’s a wool blanket between him and the rest of the world. Frank drinks twice the coffee he usually drinks and forces himself to eat one of the dry-ass sugar-free protein bars that he got on sale. Then he takes the bus to work. He jams ear buds into his ears and jiggles his leg so much that he’s probably disturbing the other passengers.
He hasn’t spoken to Robby directly since their confrontation in the ambulance bay.
They did see each other once during an early meeting with HR. When he’d come into the room, Robby was already there, staring straight ahead. He didn’t acknowledge Frank as he sat down. Robby sat with his arms crossed. The familiar way the hair on this back of Robby’s neck curled up above the neck of his hoodie made Frank’s chest ache. He hadn’t moved at all when Frank sat down. Frank had stared at him for a moment, he couldn’t help himself. Then tore his eyes away and let the sound of the HR lady’s voice lull him into a dissociative state. He kept bouncing his knee underneath the table and staring at where her eyeliner was starting to congeal into a wet eyeliner ball in the corner of her eye.
The medical audit had turned up nothing amiss, she’d said. Though based on Robby’s account and the pills found in his locker, they had to require a supervised rehab stint for six months and random drug tests when he returned to work. They were taking this matter very seriously, she’d said. However, based on his previous record and his otherwise excellent performance to date, they would welcome him back. He’d agreed. He would have agreed to whatever they said. The fact that they were willing to even consider bringing him back on after the leave absence felt like a miracle.
(At the time Frank had felt lucky. After three months of intensive therapy with his psychologist, he can finally admit to himself that feeling lucky wasn’t the point. If they’d gone back further during the audit, they would have found something. Or Frank would have fucked up in some other way. Frank had been lying. He’d made those choices and had to live with them. The lack of evidence for him stealing pills repeatedly didn’t absolve him when he knows that he did it. He can still recall his heart pounding in his chest when he’d palm another few pills. How he’d check and recheck his pockets on his walk home to feel that they were still there. He did that. If it hadn’t been that day, his life would have fallen apart on another.)
At the end of the meeting, Frank almost turned to ask Robby if he had gone to bat for him. Had he put in a good word that made them be a little more lenient? Given him a second chance? But Robby was striding out of the door without a glance back before Frank could even get the words out of his mouth.
Frank knows now that he owes Robby more than a thank you. He owes him an I’m sorry as well. How he’s going to find the place, the time to do that one right, he doesn’t know. He just knows the need to do it burns in his gut.
His first day back is…fine. Dana smiles at him and the pride in her eyes makes him duck his head. She spares him from any overt displays of emotion, just says she’s proud of him and then presses a scalded break room coffee into his hands and tells him to go take some of these patients off her hands.
Mel says she’s glad to have him back and then ignores the situation entirely. McKay finds him near the end of the shift while he’s using single fingers to type in his paperwork to say she’s always happy to chat if he’d like to some time. Outside of work — away from all of this. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that work is the only place he wants to go right now.
He and Santos enter a kind of stalemate where they speak professionally to each other when necessary but otherwise don’t chat. It’s probably more than he deserves. Frank doubts that she’s someone he’ll ever earn respect back with anyway, even if it does sting his pride a little.
Robby is like a ghost.
Or like the first fish Frank caught when he was out with his father. He’d tried and tried to catch a fish all day and nothing was biting. Until finally, right before they were going to pack up for the day, Frank finally reeled one in. It was a beautiful trout with a deep red line running down its belly and just as he closed his hands around it, the fish wriggled and flipped right back into the water.
Next time, his father had said.
There’s never a next time with Robby. He slips away every time Frank tries to talk to him.
Robby isn’t technically ignoring him. But when they’re in the same room, Robby’s eyes slide right over him. He’ll catch Robby out of the corner of his eye when he’s helping a patient and by the time he turns around, Robby has disappeared. He’ll enter the break room and what do you know, Robby is just leaving with a fresh cup of coffee in hand. One time Frank held the door open for him and Robby got so close he could feel his body heat. But Robby just muttered thanks and left Frank there blinking until Mel came in to tell him the pregnant PT in trauma 2’s blood pressure was plummeting. When Robby speaks to him, it’s short, professional, his eyes trained on the wall behind him. He uses the least number of words to convey what he needs to convey to Frank and then Robby is slipping back into the stream, off to save another life.
There’s no good time to apologize. Frank had prepared what he was going to say to Robby. Prepped it with his therapist and run through it again while staring at himself in the cracked bathroom mirror of the apartment he is renting. And he needs to. He needs to make this one amend. This one is important to him. He’s gotten to say sorry to everyone else — Abby, Tanner (in a way a kid could understand — that his dad loves him even if he won’t be around as much anymore), his parents. Robby’s the one who is left on his list. He’s not so unaware that he doesn’t realize why he left Robby for last.
And the shittiest thing is, if this is what this job is going to be like moving forward, then Frank isn’t sure if he can do it. Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to come back after all. It would suck balls to switch to a different residency program when he’s already in his fourth year at this one but he might have done it if he’d known that it would be like this. Like Robby can’t even bring himself to see Frank anymore. He doesn’t even know what kind of doctor he would be without Robby, but Robby isn’t here anyway.
A month after he comes back, the fact that Robby won’t even look at him occupies all of Frank’s thoughts when he’s not working. Robby looking through him is worse than Robby flat out ignoring him. If Robby were ignoring him, then it’d be an indication that he still felt something.
So that’s how Frank finds himself, post shift, freezing his ass off on Robby’s back porch in the January night. Robby lives within walking distance of the hospital. Which, of course he does. Back when things were good (before Frank fucked everything up), he used to tease Robby about how he had made working in ED at PTMC his entire life. That Robby couldn’t bear to be more than a few blocks away from the hospital at all times.
“I bet you get up in the morning and drink a coffee and stare forlornly in the direction of the hospital wishing you were at work.” Frank had said during one of Robby’s ED parties. They were both standing in the backyard sipping beers, away from the noise of the party. Robby had laughed at that. And Frank was just this side of buzzed enough to let himself watch the way Robby’s eyes crinkled at the corners and let warmth blossom in his gut. He’d wished they could stay out there for the rest of the night, just the two of them. Maybe he could get Robby to laugh again. But then Collins had poked her head out asking Robby if he still kept his bucket and mop in the basement, and Robby had been off to deal with whatever disaster was going on inside.
After, Frank told himself it was good to have that camaraderie. Robby was more likely to give him a good recommendation at the end of his residency if he liked Frank. That didn’t explain why sometimes that memory was the last thing he’d think about before falling to sleep at night. The pills had helped with that. They let him forget about his job. Helped him forget that it was Abby sleeping next to him. Helped him forget about all those possibilities that might have been, branching through time and space, fracturing off into millions of possible timelines. What could have been if Frank had been brave enough to make different decisions.
It didn’t matter now. He’d made his decisions and now he was paying for them.
Frank is in the dark and it is cold. There are no lights on since Robby isn’t home yet and he’s just thankful that at least Robby’s porch is screened in so it helps with the wind. Maybe he deserves to feel all of that cold. Robby should be here soon. It’s too cold for drinks in the park post shift with the rest of the crew. Though maybe he went off to grab a beer with Abbot. Frank suppresses the pang in his stomach at that thought. He bows his head and huddles into his jacket. He’ll sit out here as long as it takes. Pittsburgh winters are brutal but it could be worse. It could always be worse.
Frank’s lost track of the time when he hears Robby’s gate squeak and the sound of his sneakers pounding up the walk. Robby opens the screen door and pauses, then steps inside — letting it bang shut behind him.
In the darkness, Robby’s face is mostly obscured. There’s only the glint of the half-light of a streetlight in the alleyway that lights his eyes. Frank stares at him and finds he doesn’t know what to say. Maybe the cold has sapped his ability to think.
Robby regards him for a moment and then his shoulders sag. “Go home, Frank.”
Robby makes for the door, pulling his keys out of his pocket. Before he can unlock the lock, Frank springs to his feet.
“Just, let me say what I came to say and then I’ll go.”
Robby raises a skeptical eyebrow.
“One minute, that’s all I’m asking,” Frank promises.
Robby looks back at him stonily.
“Please, Robby.”
The silence between them is punctured only by a distant ambulance siren.
“Fine.” Robby puts his keys back in his pocket and turns towards Frank. “What’s so important that you had to ambush me at my house?”
Frank swallows. He really shouldn’t be surprised that Robby isn’t being the friendliest right now. He shouldn’t be, but there’s still a part of him — the one that remembers what it was like to have Robby as a friend, a mentor — that curls up small and feels like dying. Maybe this was a mistake, but he’s here now and he has to say something or he’s going to look like even more of a fool and, if it’s possible, Robby will hate him even more.
“I’m sorry.” Frank knows it sounds weak. He can tell Robby thinks it’s weak—not enough. Not for what Frank did. Frank gathers himself and tries again, before Robby can do something like turn his back and go inside his house. “I never said it before and I wanted to say it now. So that you know that I am. Sorry. I shouldn’t have put you in that position and you had every right to be angry with me. Stealing pills from patients was a shitty thing to do.”
Robby snorts at that but doesn’t say anything.
Frank pauses for a moment and then rallies forward, “I know it’s just words and I want to prove to you that I am sorry with my actions. But I wanted you to hear it too. That I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Robby.”
Tears sting at the backs of his eyes. He blinks to keep them in place and hopes that Robby can’t see how he’s about two seconds from blubbering like a pathetic fool. And he’s probably saying sorry too many times. He can’t think of anything else to say. Frank wishes he could rip open his chest and show Robby his beating heart and say, see each beat — each one is just an apology to you.
Instead, Frank stops talking. He looks down and now he’s the one looking at his shoelaces like they are the most interesting thing in the world.
“It’s fine, Frank. I forgive you.” Robby says, like it’s nothing, and then turns to go open the door again.
“Wait,” Frank surges forward and presses his hand on Robby’s arm. “So we’re cool?”
This close in the dark, when Frank meets Robby’s eyes, he can almost make out their color in the desaturated light. It’s so hard to read him in the dark, with their breathes billowing on the cold air between them. A flash of regret spikes through him. Frank should have been more patient; should have come over in the morning with coffee and bagels from that place Robby likes and had them sit at Robby’s breakfast bar like adults. He’s suddenly aware of how strange this all is, how obviously desperate he must be to Robby, how transparent—coming all the way out here and sitting on Robby’s porch for what felt like hours in the cold, dark winter night.
Frank tightens his hand on Robby’s arm. “Because you don’t look at me at work. You don’t talk to me. You barely acknowledge what I’m doing. You’ll correct me or talk to me when it has to do with a patient but other than that its like I’m a ghost to you.”
He’s clutching at Robby’s arm now. The heat of Robby’s skin soaks through his jacket. “Yeah what I did was shitty,” Frank continues, “I mean, I know that. And I know it’s like…a lot for me to ask anything of you but I can’t live like this Robby. I can’t have you looking through me or past me for the next six months. Why won’t you look at me?” His voice cracks a little on the last sentence.
“I’m treating you like I’d treat any other resident.”
Frank’s cheeks heat. “No, you aren’t. I see you with everyone else. You’re — you with them. You stopped with me.”
“And I think you know why that is,” Robby says in that voice he uses with patients or families where he’s trying to stop himself from snapping at them.
Good, the petty part in Frank says. He’s glad Robby is struggling to contain his anger. Someone else other than Frank should be mad about this situation.
“I accept your apology.” Robby continues in that same infuriatingly conciliatory voice. “We can move on from this. But don’t expect me to pretend like it never happened. You’re getting the exact same treatment as everyone else.”
“I didn’t before.”
Frank is close enough to see Robby flinch and then try to cover it up.
“Are you accusing me of playing favorites with my residents?” The anger is leaking into Robby’s voice now and the sound of it sends a little thrill he’s not proud of through Frank’s gut.
“No, Robby. I just —“ Frank starts, a little too loud and then stops and makes himself lower his voice. “Whenever I enter a room, you’re leaving it. I want to make things right with you and how can I do that if you won’t even come within three feet of me?”
“By staying sober and doing your job.”
Frank sighs. “Will you just listen to me?”
“If me staying professional feels like a punishment to you, that’s not something I can control.”
That one lands. “God, you’re so stubborn,” Frank says, before he can stop himself.
Robby nostrils flare a little as he exhales. “I think I’m allowed to be whatever I want after I found my resident stealing pills from patients behind my back. You should be happy you still have your license, let alone your job. Don’t get greedy.”
Frank blinks at him.
Robby lets that hang for a moment in between them and then he pulls his arm out of Frank’s grasp. “Now it’s been a very long shift and I’d like to do something besides stand on my porch freezing my ass off. Go home to your family, Langdon.”
“Abby left me,” Frank says. At Robby’s incredulous look, Frank continues, “I thought you knew. She gave it a few months at least, while I was in rehab. But it was too much for her. She said she didn’t want to risk me relapsing when Tanner was in the house.” Frank stops there. Swallows around the lump in his throat.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” says Robby.
A beat of silence.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Robby says and puts his hand on the door handle.
Frank takes another step closer to him. “I don’t want you to treat me like I’m any other resident.”
“I have to.”
“Why?”
“Because if I didn’t, I don’t know what I’d do.”
“I get it. I know — you’re still mad at me. But Robby, please. This job” — you, he almost says but doesn’t —“they’re all I have. If I’m not a doctor — I’d have to start over. I don’t think I can start over.”
Robby doesn’t move. He still isn’t really looking at Frank, from what he can tell by the way Robby’s neighbor’s porch light illuminates half his face. Anger churns in Frank’s gut. Even now, Robby thinks so little of him that he can’t look Frank in the eye when he’s pouring his heart out to him.
“What do I have to do?” Frank says. “Work doubles until I collapse? Pee in a cup for you every day? Let you punch me? Get on my knees and beg for forgiveness?”
Something shifts in Robby’s eyes when Frank mentions getting on his knees. It’s quick and in the half-dark Frank would almost think he made it up, except Robby’s breathing has also kicked up.
Well, if that’s what Robby wants, Frank will give it to him. Frank sinks to his knees before he even finishes thinking through the thought.
The stone of Robby’s porch stone is cold where it bites through the fabric of his jeans. When Frank tilts his head up to look at Robby, a jolt flashes through him as they lock eyes, really lock eyes. Robby’s chest is rising and falling. Otherwise, Robby doesn’t move. He keeps looking at Frank, finally really looking at Frank for the first time in months. For the first time since their argument in the ambulance bay. Frank would do anything to keep that gaze on him, but he pushes that thought to the side to be agonized over later once he’s home. Once whatever insanity has gripped him at this moment has passed and he can think clearly again.
Now, his whole world is narrowed to where Robby’s thighs are molten with heat under his hands. Frank lets his hands ghost upwards and begins to undo the button on Robby’s jeans. He’s telegraphing his movements, like he does with a skittish patient, giving Robby plenty of time to knock his hands away or tell him no.
Robby just keeps looking down at him with that same intensity. Frank doesn’t stop looking back at him until he’s unzipped Robby’s pants and pulled his cock from his boxers.
He’s already hard in Frank’s hand. His cock beading with moisture at the tip and Frank takes a moment to marvel at it before closing his mouth around him. Robby is heavy on his tongue. Warm and salty. Frank’s out of practice — hasn’t done this particular act since college and he was a little drunk each time for those. This time, he’s very aware that he’s sober. Very aware that this is Robby stretching his lips.
Frank moans a little and swallows him down. Maybe a little tentative at first, but then he gets a rhythm that feels right. Where each time Robby’s cock pushes into his mouth, it bumps into the back of Frank’s throat in a way that is uncomfortable and makes his stomach swoop at the same time. Robby is leaking, he can taste it on his tongue. Relishes it. And for awhile, Frank just shuts his eyes and lets himself get lost in the sensations. The warmth of Robby’s thighs beneath his hands; the slickness of his mouth and the saliva pooling at the corners of his lips; the cold of the night air contrasted with the warmth radiating off of Robby.
Above him, he can hear Robby panting — trying to keep himself quiet. After all, they are outside. Any neighbors that come out into the alleyway would see everything. Frank on his knees. Robby fucking his mouth in little thrusts now like he’s trying to stop himself but can’t.
The thought makes Frank palm himself through his jeans, where his cock is straining against the zipper, just this side of painful. He can’t help the moan that comes out the next time Robby’s cock nudges the back of his throat. Robby, who has been quiet except his quiet harsh breathing, groans at the vibration. A spike of lust jolts through Frank’s body and he finally opens his eyes. Finally chances to look up at Robby.
Robby is staring down at him, eyes dark and fixed firmly on Frank’s face. Frank can’t tear his gaze away. Looking might have been a mistake, but Frank is caught now. He takes Robby as far as he can into his throat and swallows, eyes trained on Robby’s face. If he looks completely debauched, Frank can’t find it in himself to care.
Robby’s panting now, mouth open and his hand comes up to grip at Frank’s hair. He pulls Frank’s hair, tilting Frank’s head back. Frank can only look up helplessly into Robby’s eyes as Robby begins to thrust in earnest. Frank wants to shut his eyes, get lost in the feeling of it all. But he’s trapped in Robby’s gaze, under his firm hand in Frank’s hair. Robby’s pulling on the strands just enough that Frank feels held in place, but not enough to make it hurt. Frank focuses on not choking. He wants to make this good for Robby.
He needs to show Robby he can be good.
Robby’s eyes dart over Frank’s lips, the planes of his face, the way his cock is moving in and out of Frank’s mouth.
Frank can feel tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. His lips must be bruised. His cock throbs. Frank relinquishes one hand from where it was digging in to the meat of Robby’s thigh to unbuckle his own jeans and wrap his hand around his cock. At the first touch of his own hand, Frank feels a circuit t is completed from his mouth to his cock. He moans again, louder around the slick sounds of Robby using his mouth.
His eyes almost drift shut with pleasure but he sees Robby give a small shake of his head. So small that he could almost miss it but Frank knows him (knows Robby, he knows him from so many silent communications everyday for years that he knows what he wants now). He’ll do whatever Robby wants. Frank keeps his eyes open as he starts to jack himself off with abandon, not caring about finesse. Wanting to feel the electricity run along that circuit between his mouth stuffed full of Robby and his hand on himself.
Every now and then Robby’s gazes flickers down as though trying to make out the shape of Frank’s hand moving in the shadows. Frank lets himself pretend that Robby wants to see his pleasure too. That this is something mutual and wanted, not Frank’s desperate attempt to insert himself back into Robby’s life in any way that Robby will take him.
Frank can tell Robby is getting close now, his hips are stuttering and each exhale ends in a breathy groan. Robby still hasn’t taken his eyes off Frank’s face and it makes something painful and vicious throb in Frank’s chest. Frank redoubles his efforts to please Robby — trying to take him deeper, use his tongue better — until Robby curses and thrusts one last time into the back of Frank’s throat and comes with a long drawn out moan. Frank swallows him down and revels in the little twitches of Robby’s hips as Robby shudders through his orgasm.
Too soon, Robby pulls out. Some of his spend leaks onto Frank’s lips as he does. When Robby reaches down to swipe it off with his thumb, Frank heart thumps and he orgasms. He falls forward with his face pressed against the inside of Robby’s thigh. He pants there for a moment, clutching at the last tendrils of pleasure as they fade.
He only becomes aware of his surroundings again when the cold night air reminds him that he is kneeling on his boss’s porch with his cock out. Frank hastily tucks himself back inside his jeans and zips back up, hoping that his recent orgasm won’t be obvious.
At least they’re dark jeans.
He has the brief, wistful thought that he wishes Robby still had his hand in his hair. The post-orgasm reality is hitting him. Frank is all too aware that Robby is no longer touching him and is instead tucking himself back into his jeans. The sound of Robby zipping himself back up almost echoes in the quiet of the back alley. He must look pathetic, still kneeling crumpled and damp at Robby’s feet. Frank forces himself to his feet, proud that he only stumbles a little.
Robby leans back against the door, eyes shut. If it were lighter out, Frank could read Robby’s expression.
“Go home, Frank,” Robby says and he might as well have slapped him.
Frank swallows. Scratches the back of his head where he can still feel the ghost of Robby’s hand. What is he supposed to say? What did he expect? That one blow job and Robby would invite him in for dinner? Would hold him? Kiss him good night? Robby is his boss. A former friend. They aren’t lovers. They aren’t really anything, not anymore. Frank isn’t special to Robby like he once was. In fact, Frank probably just fucked up any chance they had for reconciliation by blowing him.
Frank nods, words still not coming and turns to go. He’s careful on the slickness of the steps as he makes his way off the porch. It would really just cap off this evening if he were to fall on his ass right now.
“What happened just now,” Robby calls after him, “it didn’t happen.”
Frank pauses at the foot of the stairs. He doesn’t turn around. “Yeah Robby, I know.”
“I’ll see you at work,” Robby says after a moment. Then he goes inside and the door slams shut behind him.
Frank walks to the bus stop and ignores the wretched clenching of his heart. The bus takes forty minutes to arrive. Frank is shivering and his face is numb by the time he’s stumbling up the bus steps and collapses onto a free seat. The cold has wormed its way so deeply into his body that Frank doubts he’ll ever be warm again. He and the cold are one thing now. He doubts he deserves anything more.