Chapter Text
The beeping filled his ears before his eyes opened. Weird. He was clearly in the hospital, but it wasn’t like him to sleep in one of the patient beds. Even when he pulled a double, he wouldn’t crash on the shop floor. He would maybe treat himself to a power nap on the uncomfortable break room couch if he was desperate. Mostly he just powered through on adrenaline and Red Bull.
The next thing he noticed was a hand loosely holding on to his. He squeezed it on instinct as his eyes began to open. Bright lights filled his vision and made his head swim, the world around him out of focus. He flinched against the pain until his eyes began to adjust. The hand in his squeezed back, the pressure slightly unfamiliar but not unwelcome. That was when he truly took note of the pain he was feeling. It sat dull in his bones as he lay, shooting through his nerves with every microscopic movement he dared to make. He ran a quick diagnostic in his head, concluding that he probably had some sort of concussion and potentially a few broken ribs, although remembering what had caused the injuries seemed beyond his reach.
His eyes flicked around the room, landing first on the monitor that he had to squint at to read his own vitals. He chalked that up to the concussion although the rest of the room seemed to be returning into focus. The next thing he registered was the woman in the chair by his bedside. The owner of the hand that held his. Reflexively he pulled his hand away, eyes darting around the room again in search of someone else. The doctor by his bedside was unfamiliar but his surroundings weren’t. He knew he was in The Pitt, South 15 or 16 judging by the water stains on the ceiling.
He was trying to gather his thoughts, desperately trying to assess his pain and what had put him in this bed. Something kept drawing his eyes back to her though. He scanned her face again trying desperately to place her. Radiology maybe? Her eyes looked tired, strands of hair falling out of her braid and her scrubs crumpled up. Had she been sat at his bedside all night? Her gaze felt intimidating, so he turned his attention back to assessing himself. It was the weight of the ring on his finger that pulled the question from his lips.
“Has someone called my wife? Is Abby here?”
There was a moment. Just a small moment where she looked completely floored by the question. It was like the air was completely taken out of the room. Seeing the light leave her eyes made his heart ache as much as his body did. It only lasted a moment before she composed herself, turning on her professional mode but very pointedly ignoring the question he had asked.
“Do you know what year it is?” Her voice was stable despite whatever internal battle she was going through, focusing on the questions she needed to ask. The questions that Frank knew all too well.
“My name is Frank Langdon, we’re in Pittsburgh and it’s 2025. I’m in a lot of pain, pretty sure I have a concussion and maybe some cracked ribs. I just want to see my wife. Please doctor.” He knew something was wrong with the answers when her gaze fixed onto the wall behind him, and she started to implement box breathing. Her hands tangled together, squeezing tightly, her face twisting into a painful grimace. “Are you ok?”
“Um, I’m fine. I just need to…” Despite her best efforts, a strangled sob escaped from her as she turned to leave the room. He watched her as she disappeared into the hectic fray of the emergency room. The sound of her sobs remained in the room, echoing like a ghost, haunting Frank for daring to cause this woman pain.
Alone with his thoughts, he felt himself fidgeting with his ring. Confusion hit him when it started to spin on its own. He lifted his left hand, eyes fixing on the ring that wasn’t his wedding ring. The plain, silver band was thicker than the gold one he remembered, the middle spinning around independently. The bracelet on his wrist caught his attention next. The black beaded bracelet a far cry from the bright plastic ‘Dad’ one he usually wore.
His eyes searched the room again, this time looking for answers, looking for a sign that he wasn’t going completely insane. The picture on the bedside table was seemingly the only thing he had that would give him some sort of clue as to what was going on. Tentatively, he reached over, wincing in pain as he stretched. Looking closely, there was no denying that the two children in the photo were his. Tanner and Penny standing beside a blonde dog, similar to the puppy he had been considering buying for Tanner. Only this dog was much larger than the seven-week-old goldendoodle he had planned to surprise his family with. The heart monitor gave away his panic as he absorbed the image, solid proof that he was missing some time. His babies, his small little babies, were completely different in this photo to the image of them he had in his head. Penny was grinning, her smile missing a couple of teeth, her cheeks noticeably less chubby. Tanner was taller, his hair shaggy and his eyes framed with glasses. He couldn’t hold back the tears as the realisation truly sunk in. There was a big chunk of time missing.
Dana walked through the door at the exact moment he needed her. Her presence always had a way of comforting him even when she was picking him up on his shit. She perched on the edge of his bed, squeezing his shoulder as gently as possible without jostling any of his injuries. Seemingly out of thin air, she produced a tissue for him to wipe away his tears, plucking the photo from between his fingers. “Hey kiddo. Mel told us what’s going on. Robby headed straight up to neuro, said he’s gonna fireman carry one of ‘em down here if necessary. You in a lot of pain?”
Frank just nodded in response, the ache creeping up his spine but mostly contained now to his ribs and head. He had been ensuring to wiggle his toes and fingers every few minutes just to be certain it wasn’t more serious. The itch to check his chart was ever present, desperate for more information, to be the one making the diagnosis. “Tons. You come here to hook me up?” He felt her eyes on him the second the question left his lips. Hesitantly, he looked up, shrinking instantly under her intense gaze. The knots tightened in his stomach as the disappointment radiated off her in waves.
“Absolutely the fuck not hon. Trust me. You are strictly Tylenol and ibuprofen.” It wasn’t a suggestion it was a command, and Frank had no choice but to accept. “Okay, I know you got questions, so hit me.” She was right, as usual, but he had no idea where to start.
“I got a lot of questions. I guess I should start with what happened to put me in here?” It wasn’t the most pressing question, but it was probably the only one he could handle knowing the answer to in that moment, too scared to find out what he was missing.
“You were on your way to pick the kids up from Abby’s place. Some asshole rammed your car. You were unconscious at the scene, a lot of blood but mostly superficial, other than the head wound and some bruised ribs. You got very lucky kid.” His eyes went straight to his ring at the mention of Abby. The next question only asked in the downturn of his lips and wrinkles setting in on his forehead. “You got divorced about three years ago. You tried to make it work but Abby was tired looking after you and the kids and you were fragile after coming out of rehab. You’re both in a better place now.”
Divorced, sober, seemingly remarried. It felt like an anchor had been dropped directly on his chest. So much change seemingly overnight for him. Four years’ worth of life laid out for him, matter of fact, a story he had no memory of living. “I got remarried?”
“You did.” Dana said, a smile replacing the worry that had plagued her features ever since she walked into the room. “You waited for a year of sobriety. Pined for her for months until you hit that milestone. First kissed her at midnight on New Years. She brings out the best in you and somehow, she’s endeared by all your bullshit that nobody else can stand.” She teased, actually managing to pull a laugh from him. It felt like any normal heart to heart he had had with Dana over the years. “I have no doubt that you’ll fall for her again. And I’m certain if you don’t, there’s an entire ER who are gonna pummel you.”
He tries to force the memory, urges his mind to conjure images of bright streamers, champagne bubbles on his tongue, the tune of Auld Lang Syne. But nothing reaches the surface. All he can picture when he thinks of the word wife is bright green eyes and the statuesque beauty of Abby. The strain of trying to remember made his head throb so he resigned himself back to the present. “Yeah, well it takes time to fall in love.”
Dana balked at the suggestion, shaking her head in the specific way she reserved for silently telling him he’s a complete idiot. “Took half a shift the first time. Neither of you realised what it was, stupid naïve kids that you were. When you came back from rehab she was the only one ready to bat for you. Practical stranger to her but she stood by you. Took you no time at all to fall in love, just took you some time to sort yourself out.” He absorbed the information, unable to wrap his head around falling so hard and fast, of having a bond like that with anyone. With Abby it had started just as a physical thing, hookups at parties, make outs during drinking games. There was no romance in the beginning just relieving the stress of college together. He couldn’t imagine a version of himself that would gently pine for somebody, that he would ever be capable of a real, genuine connection.
Bombshells dropped, Dana left him alone with one last squeeze of his shoulder and a thousand more questions. It was only when he was fully alone, that he realised he didn’t ask for her name.
He could feel the exhaustion hitting him, an unfortunate byproduct of having nothing to do but lay in bed and wait for doctors. His dreams weren’t linear. Nothing was solid. Just abstract vignettes featuring a cast of blurry faces and scenes he couldn’t fully reach and didn’t have the context for. Some were easy to decipher. Robby yelling at him by the lockers easily identified by the ratty hoodie he wore most days. Penny’s giggle breaking through as he pushed her on a swing. Others remained a mystery, obscured by the haze. Patients he was almost certain he would have forgotten the faces of even without the head trauma. Med students and interns he had guided through procedures. The only certainty he had, was that none of the foggy memories were of her.
A buzz on the bedside table pulled him from his dreams. He reached across for his phone, regretting the stretch when he felt it deep in his chest. He snoozed the alarm, swiping away the message notifications to reveal his lock screen photo, expecting to see the default background he’d never bothered to change. Instead, he was met with a photo of himself and a woman. She was pulled into his side, face obscured by her hair falling in waves, his lips pressed to the top of her head in a kiss. Even hidden, he could recognise her as the doctor who had been by his side that morning. The guilt gnawed deep in his gut as it dawned on him exactly how much he had screwed up.
Time in a hospital bed was liminal, stretching and retracting at will. The neurologist came down with Robby to assess him. A tension settled in the room when he asked for painkillers, even when he clarified he only wanted Advil, Robby still refused to look in his direction. He returned from a head scan and was treated to a carousel of visitors. Some he recognised, some he didn’t. Yoyo was the biggest surprise. She threw a bag of Sour Patch Kids at him, her wit still as sharp as her scalpel but with an underlying tenderness that he hadn’t expected. Seemingly every person on shift had become his primary physician, popping in to check his vitals or insist he drink more water and get more rest.
In the quiet moments, when he was left alone, he would look at the lock screen photo, uselessly willing any memories to surface. He had tried to unlock the phone but his usual numeric code had resulted in the numbers shaking angrily at him. It was the only time in his life that he was furious at himself for refusing to set up face ID. All he had was a single photo and the searing memory of her running out of the room sobbing.
That was until she was standing in the doorway again, tears long dried. Her face contorted somewhere between a smile and a wince as her eyes met his, searching for the recognition he couldn’t yet give her. Before he could say anything, somebody else appeared beside her. Abby lay a manicured hand on her shoulder, gently nudging her further inside.
“I heard you wanted to see me Frankie.”
It was then that Frank realised he was well and truly fucked.