Chapter Text
Mel
When Clark appeared in the pit a couple of days later, asking if she wanted to get dinner again, Mel let him down gently. He took it well, which endeared her to him.
Life carried on, Mel and Frank orbiting each other as normal. Mel still stole glances at him, residing herself to the fact that she wasn’t going to be able to will her crush away. She would just have to live with it.
Mel was standing at the nurses station, it was nearing the end of her shift and Mel and Becca had a date with a young Paul Rudd (translation: Becca had discovered Clueless and absolutely loved it, Mel much preferred watching this over and over rather than Elf) when Dana came over with a chart in her hand.
“Mel, honey, the gentleman in trauma 8, would you mind seeing to him?” Dana said as she passed the chart over. “McKay was dealing with him but she’s just had an emergency call from Harrison’s school, so I said you could field this one. Should be simple, drunk and disorderly, needs sobering up and a few stitches, most likely.” Mel nodded, and spin around to head to the trauma room, reading as she went. It seemed like he was a repeat offender in ERs around Pittsburgh, with a long history of being patched up in the early hours of the morning. It was only 7pm though, which gave Mel a tiny bit of pause. Bar fights before the sun went down weren’t always the best sign.
She had pushed into the room when she heard McKay jogging up behind her.
“Hey Mel, false alarm from the school. I can take over if you’d—“ Mel was confused as to why McKay had stopped talking, but as she turned back into the trauma room she realised quite quickly.
Mel had no idea when the patient would have managed to get a hold of a scalpel, but it was in his hands, and he was lunging at the open door.
It happened slowly, Mel raising her forearm to protect her face, the chart falling out of her grip. She heard McKay call out behind her, her voice stretched out. Mel felt her skin tear but didn’t feel the pain straight away, and her vision tunnelled.
She slumped to the floor. In the back of her mind she registered that the scalpel had also clattered to the ground. That’s good, she thought dimly. Her left hand clamped onto her right, but the cut was too long for her to cover all of it, and blood was pouring out of it. Sound drowned out, she could only hear a rushing which she knew was the sound of her her pulse in her ears, but she felt like she had stepped onto a boat, swaying with a current that shouldn’t be underneath a hospital. She couldn’t see anything but her arm in front of her.
She felt bad, she should be helping McKay. She should be helping the patient. But she couldn’t move.
Then there was a face in front of her own. She blinked and the face came into focus. Black hair framing impossibly blue eyes, flickering, deciphering, trying to figure out what was happening in front of them. So full of concern. Frank. Her Frank. She wondered if she spoke it out loud.
It was like her brain processed that she was safe, because it was only when he was in front of her, saying things that she couldn’t hear, that she passed out.
Frank
Frank was looking over at the boards when he heard Cassie’s yell. He ran over on instinct, but his vision tunnelled when he saw Mel on the floor, clasping her arm, blood leaking from it. Mateo and Cassie had their hands on the patient, and he knew Robby was right behind him, so he sunk down in front of her.
“Mel, Mel,” Frank said, taking in what was in front of him, trying to process it like an emergency doctor should so nothing worse would happen, but he found his brain stuttering, “Mel, honey, can you hear me?”
Mel’s eyes seemed to focus on his own for a second, warm and brown. She murmured “Frank,” and then she promptly passed out, her head slumping forwards.
“I need help here!” He yelled, and suddenly Santos was next to him, instinctually helping to lift her up. Frank’s hand covered where Mel’s was now loosely resting on her forearm. He hadn’t wanted to touch her while she was still conscious, aware that in stressful scenarios that touch, even his, could escalate things for her.
Mateo wheeled in a gurney, and Frank and Santos lifted her up. Between the two of them, she weighed nothing at all. They set her down, Frank pulling her braid out from behind her neck so she wouldn’t feel it, even unconsciously.
Before he could even ask for them, Cassie was passing Frank gauze to cover Mel’s cut, and he applied it as they wheeled her to a trauma room. When they got into trauma three, Santos hooked Mel up to the EKG, and even though Frank could feel her pulse in her wrists, could see her chest rise and fall, he still felt relief when he heard her heartbeat through the monitor.
“Heart rate and blood pressure steady,” Santos said, “how deep is that cut, Langdon?”
Frank was already peeling back the hastily applied bandage, assessing the wound. “Long, from wrist to elbow, but it doesn’t look deep. It didn’t hit anything major,” Santos whistled through her teeth, which Frank knew was her letting out her relief. “She probably passed out from the shock. Pass me a suture kit, and I’ll stitch her up.”
“Are you sure?” Santos asked, “I can send in -“ Frank had no idea who on earth Santos thought would be better to stitch up Mel than him, and he shot her a deathly look at her suggestion.
“Okay, fair point.” Santos digressed, the suture kit passing between them.
Cassie knocked on the trauma door, letting herself in.
“That was supposed to be me in there, Langdon I am so sorry,” she said, tears ringing her eyes. “I don’t even know how he got the scalpel.”
Frank couldn’t trust himself not to explode if he looked up at her. He knew, the sensible part of him anyway, that it wasn’t Cassie’s fault. These things happened. Working in a hospital meant working with dangerous people sometimes. If he could, he would make sure Mel was never anywhere near them. He couldn’t expect everyone in the hospital to treat her the same way. Knew that really, he shouldn’t treat her like that either. He’d never be able to protect her from everything.
But that didn’t stop him wanting to, desperately.
So instead, he focused all of his energy into making sure Mel had the cleanest, neatest row of stitches he’d ever sutured.
“She’s okay,” Santos said, “probably just passed out from the shock.”
“Okay, okay.” Cassie said. In his peripheral vision, he saw Santos lead Cassie out of the room.
Frank breathed out when it was just him and Mel.
After a couple more minutes, he was done. Frank cleaned around the wound, cleaned her blood off his hands. It was soaking her shirt, and he knew she had a spare in her locker, but he couldn’t bare to move from her just yet.
He moved to her other side, cleaning the hand that had gripped her arm before holding it in his own.
She would be fine. The realisation of that was what finally caused tears to fall from Frank’s eyes. The relief of it almost crippled him, and that made him laugh, darkly.
As he did, he saw Mel open her eyes.
“Mel, Mel. You’re safe.” Was the first thing Frank said. He felt her hand flinch in his own, and he went to extract it, thinking she wouldn’t want to be touched, but she gripped tighter.
“What happened?” She asked, voice thick.
“The patient, he lunged with a scalpel. He got your arm, but it didn’t hit anything important. You’re stitched up already, you’re safe.”
“Is he okay?” She asked, and Frank wanted to scold her. His welfare was the furthest thing from Frank’s mind, and yet it was the first thing on hers. But Frank regulated himself.
“He’s knocked out and restrained, but stable.” Frank assured. “And so are you.”
“Good, that’s good. Becca?” Mel asked.
“I can call her centre now, if you’d like that?” Frank asked, and Mel nodded. He grabbed his phone from his pocket, the number for the centre a favourite.
He spoke to the receptionist there, who patched him through to the social worker currently with Becca, and then she was on the phone.
“Frank!” She said, enthusiastic at first, “is everything alright?”
“Yes, Becca, everything’s good.” Frank said, “Mel just wanted to talk to you.”
Frank passed the phone over to Mel, who gripped it to her ear. Frank was going to get up, give them some space, but as he went to walk away, she gripped his hand tighter, and he couldn’t move.
Mel explained, in gentle terms to Becca, what happened. That she’d be home probably a bit later than normal. They had been right near the end of their shift when it happened, and Mel wouldn’t have to stay overnight but they’d still have to go through the process of discharge papers, even if the patient was a doctor.
While Mel was still on the phone, Robby knocked on the door. Mel gave Frank’s hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it, letting her go.
He followed Robby into a family room that was currently vacant. Frank could feel the adrenaline leaking from his body now he was sure everything was fine. It felt a little bit like withdrawal.
“Is there something I need to know?” Robby asked. For a second Frank thought he was accusing Frank of using again, but then he registered the tone of his voice, and the look of almost fondness on his face, and he realised what he meant. “I am in no position to judge, but I am still your boss. So, do I need to know anything?”
“No.” Frank said, voice almost cracking. Robby gave him a look, like, seriously? “No, Robby. Nothing’s happened.” They could both hear the unspoken not yet in Frank’s words.
“I know I can’t give advice here, but I’m going to,” Robby continued, and Frank desperately wanted to leave the room. Mostly to get back to Mel, but also to avoid this conversation, “listen to her. I spent too long just acting, and not listening.”
It wasn’t the crass advice Frank was expecting, something like don’t fuck it up. Frank thought he spent pretty much all his life now listening to Mel, but he knew that’s not what Robby meant, not really.
“Thanks,” Frank croaked out, “trust me, I’m trying.”
“I know.” Robby said, patting him on the shoulder. “Now get her home.”
Frank did exactly that.
Mel
The first thing Mel did when she arrived at the flat was show Becca her arm, evidence that she really was absolutely fine. Frank had drove to the centre to pick Becca up and drop them both home. Becca insisted that she only wanted a sandwich for her dinner, so Frank made her a turkey and lettuce sub and she hurried away to her room with it. Mel wasn’t surprised that Becca didn’t want to talk. Their plans had changed for the evenings, and Becca often did better alone when this was the case.
Frank made Mel a camomile tea, and himself a massive coffee, which Mel thought was counterproductive for being so late at night, but Frank refused to drink anything else. They sat on their usual spots on Mel’s couch, Mel with her legs underneath her, Frank at the other end, body angled towards her.
“How are you feeling?” He asked, and Mel rolled her eyes.
“I’m fine, Frank. You know that.” She looked over at him, his eyes were locked on her, his whole body tense, like he was waiting for something.
“Frank, are you okay?” The question seemed to floor him, eyes going wide.
“For just a split second, before reality kicked in, I saw a world that you weren’t in.” Frank said, and Mel took a sharp breath in at the sharpness of his words. “And I couldn’t cope with that.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Frank,” she said, scooting closer to him, placing her hands on his face, noticing it was trembling slightly. “I promise.”
Mel didn’t know what she expected, but she certainly didn’t expect Frank to flinch away from her.
“Don’t,” Frank said, “you can’t promise that.” Mel was bewildered, letting him get up. “You, one day, will go.” Mel felt her eyes go wide, and in front of her she saw Frank soften. “I don’t mean death, I’m not that dramatic, I mean, I am, I know that. But that’s not what I mean right now, I don’t think.” He took a breath in. “One day you will meet someone who you will love, and you will go with them. And I’ll watch.”
Mel couldn’t quite process what he was saying, wishing he would speak clearly.
“And I will be so happy for you, Mel. Because you are brilliant, and kind, and beautiful,” Mel gasped, “and you deserve all the good things in the world.”
“Frank,” Mel said, wanting him to sit back down because she didn’t think she could stand up.
“I know, I’m sorry, this is the worst moment for me to be doing this—“
“Frank.” She said, harsher now, his head whipped around to hers. “Come here.”
Frank
Even now, when confessing his heart to her in the worst possible moment, he was unable to resist her.
But he thought about what Robby had told him. That he should listen to her. So he listened.
Mel
Frank kneeled in front of her, so that they were eye level. In the back of her mind, Mel felt almost giddy. But Frank was looking at her with such actual pain, that she stifled her laugh. She just couldn’t believe this was happening.
Frank
Frank, who had gotten so good at reading Mel King, thought he saw a twinkle of amusement in her expression, and something shifted.
Mel
“I’ve already met them,” Mel said, “the person who loves me that much, haven’t I?”
Frank
Frank couldn’t do anything except nod, words lost, unable to process that this might be happening.
Mel
“Good, because I love them, too.” Mel placed her hand back on Frank’s cheek. He was no longer trembling. “I have for a while.”
That was the statement that broke Frank out of his stupor.
“A while?” He asked.
“Kind of since we met.” Mel admitted, suddenly shy, not processing that Frank had just admitted that he loved her, even if he hadn’t been able to do it with words yet.
“Since we met,” he echoed.
“I know, so as I’ve been waiting a while I’d really appreciate if someone made the first move—“ He cut her off, his own hands rushing to Mel’s face. But just before he placed them on her cheeks, he checked. She gave an almost imperceptible nod, and then his lips crashed into hers.