Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Frank parked his car meticulously, his gaze set on the car before him. Well. On anywhere but the building to his right, if we're being precise.

Turning off the engine took him twice as long as it usually did. Looking up from the wheel took him even longer than that.

He had actually started that day hopeful. Or at least, not filled with the dread he'd been constantly feeling for the last four months. 

Talking with Robby at the end of that fucking horrible shift, agreeing on getting help, that had been tough enough. 

Facing Abby had been excruciating. 

Facing his kids, explaining as well as he could - because how do you tell your kids you have an addiction and you're leaving for a rehab center in a way they'll understand? -, that had been fucking torture.

And yet, that had only been the beginning. 

But that morning, that sunny morning four months into the aftermath, it felt like the first day post mayhem or - to be more precise -, the first day in which things felt slightly less hard.

With a deep sigh, Frank unlocked his phone, his gaze fixed on the picture of his kids he kept as his wallpaper. 

Abby and him had made a deal once he reached three months sober. Keep it up, and he would get to start to keep their kids some weekends.

With that thought in mind, Frank rolled his neck slowly, feeling a satisfying crack. And then, he finally looked towards his right, towards the large, slightly run down building in which the best and worst moments of his career had been held. 

Frank took a deep breath in an attempt to keep his nerves from flaring up. When that didn't work as well as he wanted to, he made a mental list of what he’d accomplished so far, of what he was proud of. Of what he had to look forward to, precisely because of how hard he'd been working.

After two disappointing tries at different centers, he had managed to find a meeting group he actually liked. 

His kids and the polemic dog were going to stay with him that weekend. They were going to eat burgers, watch Paw Patrol and go to the park he had discovered near his new flat. 

He was a damn good doctor and he deserved the opportunity to redeem himself to his boss, his colleagues and himself. He had done every step demanded of him so far. And that morning, he was officially back to work. 

“Only way out is through,” Frank muttered before locking his phone again. He grabbed his car keys from the ignition and opened the door as he palmed the front pocket of his jeans, making sure he had his wallet on him. He climbed down the car as he hoisted his backpack over his shoulder, and grabbed his travel mug from the cup holder before closing the door and locking his car. 

And after taking off his sunglasses, Frank marched off into the building, his shoulders tense, his chin up, his gaze sharp.

One day at a time, he was getting his fucking life back.

oOo

One of the first things anyone who worked in their ER learned was that Dana knew everything about everything and everyone. 

Which meant that, of course, she was the first person to greet him once he made his way into the place that had seen the best and worst of him.

“You know, for being like the son I never wanted, you sure are a sight for sore eyes.” Dana began as she walked around the central desk, reaching up to hug him as soon as she got close enough. “It's good to see you, kid” 

“It's good to be back,” Frank replied as he wrapped his arms around Dana. For the moment, as hard as it was, he tried not to think of their last shift together. “And it's even better to see you without that awful bruise. Tell me, how does it feel to never age while the rest of us suckers get older and older?” 

“You still can't go an hour without saying stupid, huh?” 

Frank leaned back from the hug to smirk down at Dana. “Isn't it good that some things don't change?” 

“You're here!” 

Frank looked away from Dana, his smile growing softer when his gaze fell on his favourite resident and friend. “And so are you. I thought you were on night shifts this week?” 

“Managed to change shifts, Becca needed me.” Mel replied in a rush, her feet light as they carried her towards Frank. She buried her face in his collarbone, her voice muffled as she spoke again. “Missed you.” 

“I know, the shifts must have been a complete bore without me,” Frank replied before he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, his smile small, yet absolutely genuine. “Missed you too, Mel.” 

“We thought you didn't care for all of us to drop on you for a visit, so this young lady kept us up to date on how you're doing.” Dana interjected, resting a hand on his shoulder before a call from Central making her retreat back behind the desk. “Hope you don't mind.” 

“Oh, she made sure I was okay with it.” Frank threw Dana a playful glare. “You just needed the gossip, huh?” 

“Don't be mean to Dana,” Mel stepped back from their embrace. “She actually likes you for some reason.” 

“You should know, you like me as well.”

“Debatable. At best.” 

Frank laughed as he felt the residual tension drop from his shoulders. He opened his mouth to retort but then Dana approached them from the other side of the desk. 

“That was HR. They're ready for you,” Dana hesitated, her gaze growing concerned. “Robby and Kiara are waiting for you as well.” 

Frank straightened at that. So much for being able to relax on his first shift back. 

“I can go with you,” Mel immediately offered, her eyes wide and earnest.

“No,” Frank replied, chuckling softly as he clasped a hand on her shoulder. “I got it. It's okay.” 

“I want to. If you need or want company, that is. I want to be there.” 

“I know…and thank you, Mel. You've been the best friend in the world.” Frank smiled as reassuringly as he could at the two women looking at him with barely concealed concern before taking a deep breath, his gaze flickering towards the elevators. “But I need to do this alone.” 

Mel nodded slowly, not liking it one bit but knowing better than to argue. “I'll be down here. And you can text if you need anything.”

“And for what's worth,” Dana added with a gentle smile, all traces of the familiar banter gone for the moment. “You don't need to do anything else alone. Not if you don't want to.”

Frank nodded slowly, his blue eyes recovering a little of the playfulness he had lost in the previous minutes.

“You couldn't have said that when I moved into my new apartment?” 

“Oh, just go already.” 

oOo

The meeting with HR had been easier than what he had expected. 

Most of what he was told, he already knew. He would be subjected to random drug and urine tests for a year. He wouldn't be allowed to prescribe meds without authorization from the attending in charge. HR would be free to call any of his colleagues for an interview on his behavior if any of his attendings raised a concern.

He knew all of that already. He wasn't the first physician who presented an addiction in their hospital and, unfortunately, statistics said he wouldn't be the last.

And yet, that didn't mean listening to the terms of his probation was any easy.

Four months ago, he had been the star resident. He was trusted, respected and his career was an all-time high.

Now…

Now. 

Frank ran a hand over his face as the bored, unfazed HR employee stood up and walked out of the conference room. 

Now he was building it all back. He was getting it all back, only better.

One day at a time, he was fucking getting his fucking life back.

“You okay?” Kiara asked softly from his left after a moment. 

Frank almost snorted at that. What a question.

“Yeah.” Frank nodded at Kiara, his lips tilting slightly upwards. “Thank you for being here.” 

“Of course, Frank. Anything you need.” Kiara replied kindly. After a moment, her gaze drifted behind Frank, to the person Frank was trying his hardest not to look at. Kiara nodded, and stood up as calmly as she could. “We have a new social worker joining us this morning, I'll see if she's arrived. Good to have you back, Frank.” 

“Good to be here,” Frank replied automatically, his gaze following her as she walked out of the room. 

He debated with himself whether he could actually follow her, delay the inevitable until he was ready, and go back to Mel and Dana and everyone who was happy to see him.

And then, the man to his right cleared his throat, and Frank sank into his seat with defeat.

“Mind if we talk before we go back to the pitt?” 

Frank sighed, his gaze on the table before him. He'd never seen mahogany so immaculate. “Sure thing, boss.” 

He sighed. “Frank.” 

Frank looked up sharply at that. “Don't.” 

Robby raised an eyebrow. “Don't?” 

“Yes, don't.” Frank replied hotly, crossing his arms tightly before his chest. “In fact, since we're talking, can I say something?” 

Robby hesitated, his gaze sad and exhausted. After a moment, he nodded. “Go ahead.” 

“I've been talking a lot with my therapist about my work. My relationship with everyone here. We discussed that last day several times.” Frank began, his voice tight. Fuck, he should have said yes when Mel offered to accompany him. “That day was a shithole and none of us were doing alright. It took a long time, but I can now sit here and tell you that Santos did the right thing. She should have told you about her suspicions and I'm fucking glad she did. And at the end of the day, you talked to me and we agreed I needed help. It was the right thing to do, and I'll never be able to thank you enough.” 

Robby shook his head slowly. “Langdon-.” 

“But before that,” Frank continued with a warning tone, his voice still tight and almost robotically even. “You confronted me in a public setting, in front of other people, and you threw me out like a fucking rat. It was hostile, violent and downright humiliating. As an attending, as my boss, as someone who has worked with me for years, you had a responsibility to do better.” 

Robby nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on Langdon's. Frank felt himself straighten under the attention.

“I agree.” 

“You told me yourself that day, we're not friends. Well, I agree.” Frank continued, his hands tightening into fists under the desk. “I've been talking a lot with my therapist and I would like to set that boundary before we go down and get to work. Our only relationship is that of attending and senior resident, and I would like for you to remember that.” 

For a long moment, attending and resident, mentor and mentee, past friends looked at each other, a silent conversation developing without their authorization.

Then, Robby nodded slowly. Painfully.

Frank nodded in return. “Thank you.” 

With that, he stood up and walked out of the room without looking back. 

He had a shift to start.

Chapter Text

If Langdon had known the elevator ride back to the ER would be that awkward and uncomfortable, he would have taken the stairs. Maybe even delay his return to work.

Hell, why did he have to suffer any further? He would have made Robby take the fucking stairs.

Why had he refused Mel's help, again? Temporary insanity, that had to be it. 

So, it was excruciating but they made their way down to the pitt and, not a moment too soon, the doors opened. Langdon stalked his way into the pitt, his chin high, his shoulders set firmly, even as every gaze turned towards him.

Noticing all of the other residents and interns were gathered by Central, he made his way as purposely as possible, sneaking into Mel's side with a sigh.

“You look really pale,” was the first thing Mel blurted in his direction, causing Frank to snort despite himself. Leave it to his best friend to be as blunt as possible. “Sorry, I didn't mean, I just-...how did it go?” 

“Shit show,” Langdon mumbled, his gaze on Robby as he made his way towards Kiara and a young woman he assumed was the new social worker. “It went fine, I guess, but it was an absolute shitshow.” 

Mel blinked. “You didn't text.” 

Langdon shrugged. “I thought I could handle it on my own.” 

“I mean, you can and you probably did,” Mel paused, her brows furrowing slightly, as if she was trying to solve a particularly complex math problem. “But why did you feel you had to?” 

At that, Langdon turned to her, slightly taken aback but Kiara called everyone's attention and, if one of the pitt's rules were that Dana knew everything about everything and everyone, then another rule was that, when Kiara spoke, everyone listened.

“Good morning, everyone.” Kiara called, her brilliant gaze flickering across the crowd. “I know you guys have rounds, so I'm gonna be brief. I want to introduce you all to Kate, our newest social worker who will be joining my team as of today. Kate, this is Dr. Robby, the ED chief, and his team.” 

Langdon cocked his head slightly as he studied the slightly nervous woman before him who was too busy shaking hands with Robby. She seemed about his age, maybe a few years younger. Her hair was raven and styled into a bob that fell down to her shoulders and she was tall or at least, certainly taller than Kiara, though that wasn't much of a challenge.

All in all, Langdon looked at the newcomer and had this sense that he was in the presence of someone who was very modern and cool.

God, he felt ancient.

“I'm very happy to meet you all,” Kate spoke, her voice slightly nervous - which was understandable given the amount of people staring at her -, but warm and welcoming. “I can't wait to work with you all.” 

“And speaking of welcomes,” Robby interjected after a few moments in which the entire department mumbled their greetings in Kate's direction. Langdon, who had been looking at her with poorly concealed pity, felt himself stiffen when he processed Robby's words. “Our very own Dr. Langdon is joining us again. Please make him welcome and let's make sure he has an easy day back.” 

Langdon bristled, but ignored Robby in favour of leaning against the desk behind him, casting a lazy smirk when the crowd turned towards him. “It's good to be back. I missed the banter so, don't hold back alright?” 

If that comment was useful for anything, it was to dispel any awkwardness about his return. The crowd laughed, some looking at him, other at Mel, and most at each other, as if assuring themselves their asshole resident was back.

Langdon felt himself straighten with enthusiasm. 

“Happy to oblige, Langdon.” McKay called from her place next to the newcomer. Beside her, Javadi took him in with a wide-eyed glance before chuckling nervously. “Welcome back.” 

“If we can't hold back on the banter, can we ask you to shut up on your first day back?” Collins mused back from her place by Robby's right. Besides her, Santos dared to look at Langdon, quickly choosing to focus on the floor beneath her feet when Langdon locked eyes with her. 

“You're a beauty, Collins,” Langdon interjected as everyone else laughed. “Can't wait to utterly annoy you, you know, to catch up on the time lost.” 

“Okay,” Robby intervened, ready to bring the team back into professional grounds, when Dana raised her hand from her desk, phone pressed to her ear.

“Incoming, 16-year-old patient presenting shortness of breath and chest pain. She called the ambulance herself, ETA 3 minutes.” 

“Got it, thanks.” Robby nodded his appreciation before turning towards Collins. “Dr. Collins, could you start our morning rounds? I'll join you as soon as I'm able. Dr. Langdon, Dr. King, a word, please.” 

“We'll hang around in case you need us,” Kiara called as the group slowly filtered away, following Collins towards the first of the patients the night shift had left for them. “If she had to call for help by herself, we probably can offer some resources that could help.” 

“Thanks,” Robby nodded, smiling at Kiara and Kate before turning towards the two remaining doctors. “Dr. King, I want you to take point on this case. Dr. Langdon will be supervising.” 

Langdon frowned as his gaze met Robby's. As much as he didn't want to, he understood his message loud and clear, almost as if he had yelled it at him over and over again.

‘I trust you. You got this.’ 

In any other context or like, if he was a decade younger, he would have flipped Robby the finger.

But he wasn't in another context. He was at his workplace, his second home, on his first day back. He wasn't younger, he was a full-fledged adult dealing with his mentor. He wasn't a kid, he was someone who had to set an example, even with his reputation being in absolute shambles.

So, instead of snapping, Langdon nodded, and reached behind him to grab two pairs of gloves, handing one to Mel. “Consider it done.” 

And with that, he marched towards the ambulance bay without another glance. Mel watched him go, her expression conflicted, before grinning at Robby. “Thank you, Dr. Robby.” 

“You earned it, Dr. King. Let me know if you need any help.” 

As his resident rushed towards the ambulance bay, Robby reached towards Central and rested his hands on the wooden counter, stretching his arms with a frustrated groan.

“I take it it didn't go very well with Langdon?” 

Robby shot Dana an unimpressed glance. “What makes you say that?” 

“Give him a minute, Robby. It's his first day back. Not everyone would have dealt with this situation with as much grace as he has.” Dana crossed her arms before her chest and shot Robby a reassuring smile. “That kid has dealt with an absolute hell this last four months, and that's without taking into account his fight with his mentor. Give him room to breathe, I'll promise he'll come around.” 

Robby hated how obvious he was, and he hated even more how much his heart hurt at the idea of being at odds with Frank for the foreseeable future. 

And still, he had to ask.

Dana knew everything after all. 

"How do you know?” 

Dana's smile turned knowing. 

“He still looks at you like a pup seeking approval, even now.” 

 oOo

“What the fuck was that? Did you see that?” Frank cursed as he harshly put on a trauma gown, gesturing for Mel to turn around so he could help her put on one as well. “All of a sudden he trusts me now? Fuck him, literally fuck him.” 

“Isn't it good, though?” Mel wondered as she turned around and tightened the knot holding Frank's gown together. “He could have made your return much worse and no one would have been able to say anything against it. Dr. Robby is willing to let you two start again. He made your first day back easier, Frank.” 

Frank sighed, wandering towards the edge of the platform, his gaze fixed on the ambulance entrance. “You won't let me bitch about this then, King?” 

Mel followed him slowly, her hands clasped together tightly in front of her frame. “I didn't know that was part of the friendship requisites, Frank.” 

Frank chuckled lowly, turning towards her slightly to give her a dazing smile. In the distance, the sirens were growing louder, and closer. “You're my best friend, Mel. Of course it's part of your job.” 

“Well, maybe I'm thinking that this is our first case together in months.” Mel shrugged. She blinked slowly her hands clenching again when she felt Frank looking at her. “Maybe I'm too happy to have you back to think about complaining.” 

Frank smiled softly at that, all fight, anger and frustration leaving his body, at least for the time being. He reached to clasp his hand on Mel's shoulder, his smile widening when Mel turned towards him sporting a slight blush. “As always, you're absolutely right, Dr. King. Let's kick this day's ass, shall we?” 

Mel jumped a little bit in her place. “Absolutely. And then I'll buy you a pint to celebrate the end of a successful first shift, and so you can bitch about Robby in peace.” 

Frank guffawed, his laughter concealed by the ruckus of the ambulance driving dramatically towards them. “She curses now, then. Anything else I might have missed these past few months?” 

Mel turned towards the ambulance, her lips lifted into a slight smirk. “Only time will tell.” 

oOo

“Genevieve Simmons, 16 years old, presents chest pain, a slight fever and shortness of breath.” The paramedic gave a quick run down of the case as he jogged around the ambulance. Opening the back door, he helped his mate lower down a gurney containing a pale teenager with wide eyes and slightly dry lips. “She took an ibuprofen before falling asleep last night, thinking it would help with her symptoms. She called us as soon as she woke up and noticed her struggle to breathe.”

“Hello Genevieve, my name is Dr. King and this is Dr. Langdon,” Mel began calmly as they took her inside, her gaze flitting between her patient and the path before them. “On a scale from 1 to 10, 10 being the worst, who would you rate your pain?” 

“At least a 3, I guess? It hurts mostly when I inhale and it doesn't hurt much if I don't breathe deeply,” Genevieve answered, her voice quivering slightly. “What’s wrong with me?” 

“We're going to find out as soon as we can but you're in excellent hands, Genevieve.” Langdon nodded reassuringly at his patient before nodding at Dana, who was watching from Central. “We're taking my friend Genevieve here to Trauma One, at least until we can do further testing.” 

“All yours!” 

“Is there anyone we can call Genevieve?” Mel asked gently, going into the Trauma room with her patient while Langdon remained outside, talking to the paramedics who brought her in.

“Gen, please.” Gen blinked her eyes slowly, each blink heavier than the last. “And no, I already told my mom but she can't get out of work. She’s coming in as soon as she's free.” 

“Okay, Gen.” Mel rested a hand on Gen's arm and nodded confidently. “Let's see about helping you feel better then, shall we?” 

“How are we doing over here?” Langdon interjected as he strutted into the room, Princess and Jessie following her. 

“Any other symptoms you might have missed telling the paramedics, or that you're only noticing now?” Mel asked Gen, moving out of the way so Princess could start an IV and Jessie could check her vitals. 

“I guess I've been feeling really tired? I thought it was because highschool is being an absolute bitch, but it's like I haven't been able to get much rest for the last couple of days.” Gen answered, wincing when the needle pierced through her skin. 

“Sorry, darling.” Princess tapped Gen's wrist carefully before turning towards Mel. “IV's in. Should we push fluids?” 

“Pulse 120, BP 90/60, temp 101.5, SpO2 89%,” Jessie intervened. 

Mel frowned with concern at the vitals before turning towards Princess. “Let's start her on a litre of saline, see if we improve her hydration levels.” 

“Gen, do you have any history of respiratory problems or any other previous conditions?” Langdon asked, his hands reaching for the tablet Princess handled to him without taking his eyes from his patient. 

Gen shook her head slowly. “I mean, when I was a little kid I used to get bronchitis every winter but it's been years since my last time.” 

“Do you remember when you started feeling like this?” Mel asked, watching carefully as Gen's expression twisted in concentration. 

“Is it okay if I take a listen of your lungs, Gen?” Langdon asked in turn, gesturing with his stethoscope. “Promise I'll be quick.”

Gen hesitated for a moment before nodding, turning towards Mel and doing her best to ignore Langdon as he carefully settled himself behind her. “I guess a few days ago? I've been very stressed because I have finals coming up and I need perfect scores if I want a scholarship for college. And like, I remember I got caught in this huge storm on my way back home a few days ago. I thought I was okay but I woke up the next day with my chest hurting everytime I breathed.” 

“And how would you describe that pain? Is it constant? Does it get worse when you walk or do any sort of physical activities?” 

Gen nodded, ignoring her long, crimson hair as it fell around her face. Her eyes filled with unshed tears but she still looked at Mel bravely. “What happens now, Dr. King?”

“Now, we get some tests done so we can decide on a game plan. Sound good?” Mel replied, smiling when Gen nodded with much more bravado than she would have had in her place.

“You're doing great, Gen.” Langdon added before turning towards Mel. “Dr. King?” 

“Let's get a CBC, blood culture, pulse oximetry, ABG, chest x-ray and an ECG.” Mel listed, straightening with pride when Langdon nodded. "Let's also get her started on amoxicilin, see how her symptoms react to the antibiotics."

“Excellent,” Langdon smiled at her before turning towards Gen. “Now, we're gonna get you settled into one of our best rooms and get those tests so we can see exactly what's going on. Other than your mom, is there anyone we can call?” 

Gen shook her head slowly. “It's just the two of us. Do…do you think I'm gonna be here for long?” 

Langdon carefully constructed his face in order to not give any emotion away before squeezing his patient's hand. “Give us a little while to get those test results and we'll be able to tell you more about that.” 

oOo

“20 bucks it's pneumonia,” Frank began once the door to Gen's room, South Nine, had been firmly shut behind them. “She presents all the criteria.” 

“I don't understand how it happened though,” Mel mused. She logged into the computer nearest to her in order to start on her initial differential notes, Frank perching himself beside her. “She's young and seems very healthy...other than her current status, of course. I admire her. She has to be absolutely frightened, and she still dealt with the situation like a queen.” 

“About that,” Frank muttered, perking up when he noticed Kiara walking out of the lounge room with the new girl. “Kiara, mind if we borrow your new girl for a case?” 

“None at all, Dr. Langdon.” Kiara replied evenly. “Is it the respiratory distress?” 

Mel nodded. “Genevieve Simmons. We think it might be pneumonia. Her mother is working and it's just the two of them, so she can't afford to leave her shift earlier. She's taking it like a champ but she's definitely scared.” 

Beside Kiara, Kate made a sympathetic sound, leaning to take a quick peek into South 9. After a moment, she turned towards the doctors. “I can go in with you once you get the results, help her make sense of the situation, hold her hand. I'll also look into their home situation, see what help we can offer once her mother comes in.” 

Kiara nodded her approval. “Let me know if you need any help.” 

“Absolutely,” Kate replied, she and Mel already deep in conversation as they discussed the case. 

For a second, Langdon watched them with the pride only a mentor, a friend, could feel once watching someone they cared about do so well. But then, his gaze flickered across the floor, noticing the structured chaos he hadn't missed but he wouldn't know what to do without. 

And then, his gaze fell on her.

Santos. 

The intern who changed his life irrevocably four months ago.

The girl he couldn't help but despise, because of every similarity he identified between them.

The kid who had made a completely impossible decision on her first day.

Langdon sighed.

There was no use in delaying the inevitable. 

Chapter Text

If there was something that Langdon had gotten used to since the day he was caught, that was silence. 

And so, he had become proficient with it. He had come to endure it, accept it, even like it in the right context. 

Silence, like pain, had become a long-time friend. Only, she was a more gentle one.

Sometimes.

With Robby, silence had been fucking torture. It had been a dance around the disappointment both of them felt. 

Disappointment because Langdon lied, fucked things up. Disappointment because he didn't trust Robby enough to ask for help. Disappointment because Robby didn't listen, didn't respect their friendship. Disappointment because he didn't trust Langdon enough to listen and do better.

With Abby, silence had been grief's best friend. The grief of a marriage that had crumbled into pieces a long time ago. The grief of not being able to pretend otherwise, not anymore. The grief of their relationship, their friendship and the team they had built based on the promises they'd made to one another changing irrevocably and painfully.

If it's all the same to the reader, this author will not discuss the facet silence took when it came to Langdon and their kids. Somethings, some battles, they are not meant to be spoken of. And the quiet sadness that walked with his children because their dad was sick, because he was then gone, because he was no longer going to live with them…

Yeah, it burned him. It still does.

And with Mel, silence was comfort. Calm, easy, warm. Silence was filled with golden sunrays, with the cool breeze that danced around them everytime Mel visited him at the Center. Silence was filled with peace, with the relief that it came when things were just a little bit less hard, if only for a moment. 

Some afternoons, Frank would sit on that slightly beaten wooden bench, a cup of coffee on the floor beside him and Mel by his other side. She would either talk to him or read out loud, depending on what he needed that day. In either of those cases, Frank would look at her often, and think that he wouldn't mind prolonging this moments. Just for a little while. Just until he felt better.

In those moments, silence was his protector, because he never, never, voiced those thoughts out loud. 

As Santos took a seat in front of him in the empty lounge room, Langdon couldn't help but wonder which face would Silence adopt here. 

“All due respect, Dr. Langdon, but I'm not going to apologize for what happened.” 

Langdon couldn't help but smirk. Maybe, he wasn't meant to find out silence's role here just yet. 

“I always loved that phrase. All due respect. It is a polite way of telling the other person that the respect they deserve might be different than they would like to imagine. Tell me, Dr. Santos. How much respect do you think I'm due?” 

Chapter Text

If there was something that Langdon had gotten used to since the day he was caught, that was silence. 

And so, he had become proficient with it. He had come to endure it, accept it, even like it in the right context. 

Silence, like pain, had become a long-time friend. Only, she was a more gentle one.

Sometimes.

With Robby, silence had been fucking torture. It had been a dance around the disappointment both of them felt. 

Disappointment because Langdon lied, fucked things up. Disappointment because he didn't trust Robby enough to ask for help. Disappointment because Robby didn't listen, didn't respect their friendship. Disappointment because he didn't trust Langdon enough to listen and do better.

With Abby, silence had been grief's best friend. The grief of a marriage that had crumbled into pieces a long time ago. The grief of not being able to pretend otherwise, not anymore. The grief of their relationship, their friendship and the team they had built based on the promises they'd made to one another changing irrevocably and painfully.

If it's all the same to the reader, this author will not discuss the facet silence took when it came to Langdon and their kids. Some things, some battles, they are not meant to be spoken of. And the quiet sadness that walked with his children because their dad was sick, because he was then gone, because he was no longer going to live with them…

Yeah, it burned him. It still does.

And with Mel, silence was comfort. Calm, easy, warm. Silence was filled with golden sunrays, with the cool breeze that danced around them everytime Mel visited him at the Center. Silence was filled with peace, with the relief that it came when things were just a little bit less hard, if only for a moment. 

Some afternoons, Frank would sit on that slightly beaten wooden bench, a cup of coffee on the floor beside him and Mel by his other side. She would either talk to him or read out loud, depending on what he needed that day. In either of those cases, Frank would look at her often, and think that he wouldn't mind prolonging this moments. Just for a little while. Just until he felt better.

In those moments, silence was his protector, because he never, never, voiced those thoughts out loud. 

As Santos took a seat in front of him in the empty lounge room, Langdon couldn't help but wonder which face would Silence adopt here. 

“All due respect, Dr. Langdon, but I'm not going to apologize for what happened.” 

Langdon couldn't help but smirk. Maybe, he wasn't meant to find out silence's role here just yet. 

“I always loved that phrase. All due respect. It is a polite way of telling the other person that the respect they deserve might be different than they would like to imagine. Tell me, Dr. Santos. How much respect do you think I'm due?” 

Santos didn't cower. If anything, she raised to the challenge. “From me? I guess it depends on how this conversation goes.” 

Langdon chuckled self-deprecatingly. “Only this conversation? I imagined I'd already made my grave when it came to you.” 

Santos looked at him for a long moment, her blue eyes the most serious he'd seen so far. After a moment, she shook her head. “No. I don't know you and I don't think I could necessarily like you but I could never hold that against you. Not that day or anything that came of it. So, no, Dr. Langdon. You haven't made your grave with me.” 

“I was surprised you were the one who noticed. Out of everyone who knew me, a practical stranger was the one that realized I was in trouble,” Langdon looked down at his lap, more than aware that his cheeks were burning with shame. His body exteriorized shame now. He hated it. “But then I remembered. The month at the pain clinic in Hopkins, right?” 

“Yeah. Whenever we worked together that day, I was reminded of some of the patients I saw who struggled with addiction.” Langdon still wouldn't look at her. Santos cleared her throat nervously. “I didn't want to see it, of course I didn't. But I couldn't help it, I taught myself to notice everything that could endanger me or anyone else. And when Dr. Robby told me I had the responsibility to tell him what was going on…I almost lied.” 

Langdon's head snapped up at that. “What? Why?” 

Santos let out a humourless laugh. “You think I didn't see how this was going to make me look? On my first day, a day in which I had sort of formed myself a reputation, I went and told my attending that one of his senior residents - who I've been butting heads with all day and who is liked by everyone here - that he's stealing drugs and lying to his face.” 

When Langdon didn't reply, his gaze wide and his mouth slightly open, Santos laughed again and shot up from her chair, heading for the coffee maker behind her. “I didn't want to do it. I hated you that day. I really hated you and I didn't want to work with you ever again but I didn't want to be that person. I didn't want to be the resident who cried wolf. I didn't want to be the woman who told on a man's wrongdoings and was hated for it. I wanted to come to fucking work and not think about the fact that I ruined everyone's favourite asshole’ life!” 

Silence. 

Absolute silence.

Silence in which Langdon stared at Santos with shock written all over his face.

Silence in which Santos looked everywhere but at him, her cheeks coloured in shame and her eyes brimming with angry tears. 

Silence in which Langdon realized he was seeing a whole new Santos and maybe, just maybe, he was seeing a truer version.

Silence that came, in Santos’ case, with understanding.

“You didn't ruin my life, Santos.” Langdon finally spoke, mildly in awe that he could talk at all. “I don't think anyone here would blame you for anything that happened to me that day.” 

Santos grabbed her cup of coffee with shaky hands. “I'm not that sure.” 

“You're a physician, Dr. Santos. You think you are to blame for a drug addict fucking up his life?” 

Santos snorted at that, slowly re-joining Langdon around the table. “I see you have made a lot of work on the accepting part of your recovery.” 

Langdon smirked at that before reaching into his pocket for a piece of gum. He offered another to Santos, shrugging when she refused. “I don't think I had another option. I have people depending on me.” 

“I know, they won't tell you but everyone has really missed you around here.” Santos shook her head in annoyance. Langdon's smirk widened. “Dr. Robby has been walking around with a constant scowl on his face, and Dana and the others basically forced Mel to tell them how you were doing. Mel won't tell me, but I know she was very worried about you.” 

“I was actually talking about my kids, but I missed those bastards too.” Langdon shook his head, a troubled expression on his face. “But…Mel was okay, wasn't she?” 

“I made sure she was,” Santos replied. Her voice was even as she finally dared to look Langdon in the eye. “You don't deserve someone like her.” 

He returned her look with as much bravery as he could master. “I'm perfectly aware of that.” 

“You know, it's weird.” Santos seemed as if she had to force herself to say the words. “When I don't follow the instinct to go against everything you say, I can almost talk to you normally. It's really fucking weird.” 

“It almost makes you wonder whether this place is haunted, am I right?” Langdon shook his head, letting the silence stretch between them, a comfort as both tried to come to a reckoning with the fact that they were very, very, much alike. 

Silence was friendly when it came to Santos, yet not when it came to Robby.

The world was officially coming to an end.

“You said you didn't want to be the one to do what you did,” Langdon took a deep breath, trying in vain to ignore the weight, the emotion, the fucking shame pressing down his throat. “I hated that it was you. I really fucking hated it. It felt, fuck… it really felt as if you had won, you know? And I really, really fucking hated it, I hated that everything that happened, everything I lost, it all happened after that moment. It took me a long time to work through that.” 

“And now?” 

Langdon had never heard Santos speak softly. Ever.

He really hated it.

“Now, I want to say this.” Langdon took a calming breath. It was embarrassing the amount of times he had rehearsed this. “I can't imagine how hard that must have been for you. To go to Robby and tell him of your suspicions, on your first day, knowing how it would look if you weren't right? It takes a really fucking strong moral compass to do so and…well, I'm not sure I could ever do it but I hope I never have to find out. Dr. Santos, I know you didn't do it for me but thank you for giving me the chance to fix my shit. And I'm sorry. For everything.” 

“Thank you, Dr. Langdon.” Santos replied. She looked down, blinking suspiciously fast. Langdon stayed silent, but kept that mental image in mind for when they were confident enough to allow jokes between them. “And I'm sorry too. For treating patients without talking to you, Collins or Robby and for being-.”

“A pain in the ass?” 

“Watch it.” 

Frank smiled and looked down as he shook his head. “Damn, Santos. If I didn't know any better I would say we actually have a chance of becoming friends.” 

“If that happens, feel free to shoot me in the fucking face.” Trinity stood up before nodding in his direction. “Truce, then? Frank?” 

“Ugh. Don't ever call me that again.” 

oOo

Langdon and Santos came out of the lounge room just as Mel was exiting a patient room right in front of them.

Mel cracked her neck with a sigh, pulling her gloves off her hands in the same motion. Princess came out of the room after her, touching her shoulder gently before showing her something on a tablet.

Langdon watched as Mel jumped slightly before turning towards Princess and giving her her undivided attention. Beside him, Santos reached for two pairs of gloves, handing him one that he took without really looking at her.

“Hurt her and die, you hear me?” 

Langdon jumped slightly at that. “I don't know what you're talking about.” 

Santos rolled her eyes. “Sure you don't. Listen, ER Ken. I don't like many people in this world but I like her. Hurt her, and I'll come after you.” 

Langdon smirked. “ER Ken? Are you recycling nicknames now?” 

“When you earn the right to have me think of a nickname for you, I'll let you know.” 

“Bring it on, Terminator.” 

Santos opened her mouth to reply, or probably spew some witty insult, when they heard a voice from across the hall. 

“So…you both lived.” 

Santos and Langdon turned towards Mel, who was approaching her slowly, her hands interlocked firmly before her frame. Santos was the first to react, shooting her a smirk before crossing her arms. “For now. We're having a duel at sunset.” 

Mel stiffened at that. “What?” 

“She's joking,” Frank quickly interjected. “Well, she attempted to joke. God knows she doesn't have a funny bone in her body.” 

Santos scoffed. “Excuse you, I'm hilarious.” 

Frank ignored her. “What do you got, Mel?” 

Mel turned towards the room she had just left, sighing before doing a small shrug. “One of the senior citizens sent from the facility. We coded him for 20 minutes until the home found and sent us the DNR papers.” 

“Look at it this way. If you got him back only to find those papers, you'd have had to deal with some angry family members.” 

“Santos.” 

“What? We're all thinking the same thing!” 

Langdon sighed. “Let's go see if we can save some lives.” 

As the three neared Central, Dana looked up from her desk, phone pressed to her ear. She smiled in relief when she noticed them. “MVC heading our way, two patients.” 

Langdon nodded, handing Mel a pair of gloves before putting his on. “ETA?” 

“Five minutes out.” 

“Got it,” Langdon rolled his shoulders. “Page Collins.” 

“She’s dealing with a STEMI.” 

Langdon cursed under his breath, his frustration growing when he looked up and noticed Mohan rushing into Trauma Room 1 to help Collins. 

“Langdon?” 

“Okay,” Langdon winced, cursing again before nodding at Dana. “Fuck, okay. Page Robby.” 

“There's no need,” Robby called from behind them, walking past the trio to grab a pair of gloves for himself. “MVC?” 

“Yeah, two victims.” Langdon rolled his shoulders again before turning towards Mel and noticing McKay walking towards them. “McKay, MVC, four minutes out!” 

“Got it, be right there!” 

“Dr. King, you and I will be working on one of them,” Robby began, his gaze lowered as he focused on putting on his gloves. “Dr. Langdon will take the other one with Dr. Santos and Dr. McKay.” 

Langdon felt himself stiffen at that and it wasn't even about not working with Mel. It was about him still having to prove himself to Robby.

He got it. Of course he did. And he imagined that this wouldn't be the last time he had to prove himself to him. 

And still, Robby hadn't proved himself to him yet. Langdon was still hurting because of how everything went down that day. Therefore, Langdon still kind of wanted to punch his mentor's face.

As the group headed towards the ambulance bay, Santos rushed to walk between Mel and Langdon. “Hey, now that you got your work husband back, does it mean you are no longer my work wife?” 

Mel sputtered. “What!?” 

“Like, do you have to choose? Does he win because he was your work spouse first? Because you and I make a really good team, Mel, you have to remember that.” 

Frank felt himself stiffen despite himself, perfectly aware that Robby was looking at him. “Santos, not the time nor the place I think?” 

“I don't know,” McKay shrugged. She smiled mischievously when Langdon glared at her. “I mean, Santos really stepped up while you were gone. Have you considered a poly work relationship?” 

Robby held up a hand before anyone could answer that. “How about we consider focusing on our patients?” 

Langdon shot Mel a look, just in time to notice her clenching her hands into fists. 

And that was the last thing he could do before the ambulance made it into the bay.

oOo

“Would you look at this,” García called smugly as she entered the Trauma room. “Traumatized Ken is back with us!”

Langdon snorted. He nodded at McKay before shooting Garcia a smirk. “Get the ultrasound ready, Dr. McKay. Congrats on getting a new idea, García, how does it feel?”

“I wouldn't want to make you feel bad by telling you, Langdon. I know it's been a while since you got one of those.” Garcia and Langdon exchanged a friendly nod before the former crossed her arms, finally focusing on the patient on the table. “What do we got?” 

Langdon gestured in Santos' direction, who was currently bagging the patient's airway. “Dr. Santos, present the case.” 

Santos nodded, keeping her eyes on the patient, even as García leveled her with her intense gaze. “John Doe, mid thirties, victim of an MVC. He's presenting mild bruising across his chest, plus a distended stomach.” 

“We thinking he had to be the driver?” 

Langdon nodded. “We're getting ready to do a FAST exam. This guy might be needing an laparotomy, so get ready to work, Miss Surgeon.” 

“Everyone's favourite asshole is back and it shows.” 

“Pulse 105, BP 120/80, Temp 102°, SpO2 95%,” Princess called from her place besides the patient's head, her gaze on the monitor.

“Ready with the ultrasound,” McKay interjected. “Dr.Langdon?” 

Langdon shook his head. “Go ahead. Santos, switch places with me so you can see better.” 

Santos hesitated. “You sure?” 

“Absolutely, let's go Dr. Santos.” Langdon nodded at McKay as he moved around Santos. “Go ahead, Cassie.” 

“Alright,” McKay paused, her brows furrowed as she slowly moved the wand across the patient's stomach and down towards his pelvis, her gaze fixed on the screen. Santos leaned forward as well, so neither of them noticed García raising an eyebrow in Langdon's direction.

Langdon rolled his eyes. As if being decent to Santos wasn't hard enough, he had to deal with Edwina Scissorhands. 

Freaking-fucking-tastic.

“There, free fluid around his pelvis.” McKay smirked towards the screen. “Seems like you'll get to cut, García.” 

“Must be my lucky day,” García rolled her eyes. “Okay, let's get him ready to transport.” 

As Langdon switched places with Princess so he could helo prepare the patient, he looked up just in time to watch Robby enter the room. He remained by the edge of the room, his hands buried in the pockets of his black hoodie. “How are we doing here?”

McKay turned towards Langdon, hesitating when he kept his head down as he helped prepare the patient. “Patient's stable and presenting free fluid in his pelvis. Surgery is ready to take him up for an ex-lap.” 

“Excellent work Dr. McKay, Dr. Santos. Dr. Langdon, a word please?” 

Watching Robby exit, Langdon sighed heavily just as García wiggled her fingers goodbye. “Good luck, Ken.” 

“Shut up, Yo-Yo.” 

oOo

“How is it going?” Robby asked as Langdon joined him outside the trauma room.

“Fine,” Langdon replied automatically as he reached into his trousers pocket for a piece of gum. “McKay and Santos did a good work.” 

“I saw the effort you're making with Santos,” Robby commented easily. “You're trying to be the teacher she deserves. It doesn't go unnoticed, Langdon.” 

Langdon shrugged. “I'm still a senior resident. My job is to teach, as much as it is to learn.” 

Robby nodded slowly before stopping by the edge of an empty hall. After a second, he crossed his arms before his chest before finally looking at Langdon. “I wanted to talk to you about your work relationships. Frankly, there's something I noticed that's concerning me.” 

“García and I have been fighting since Med School. Nothing has changed there.” 

“I was actually talking about Mel.” 

Frank crossed his arms before his chest. “What about her?” 

Robby levelled him with his best teacher look. “I noticed you two are very close.” 

“So are her and Santos. You gonna talk to them as well?” 

“Frank.” 

“No,” Langdon interrupted. “What exactly is your concern here? She's my friend. Are you worried I'm gonna be a bad influence?” 

“I'm worried you're getting into something you might not be ready for. Not yet.” Robby argued, taking a deep breath when he felt himself losing his patience. “You just got out of rehab. This is your first day. You haven't seen most of the people here in four months and the only one you have seen is the junior resident you’ve been shadowing all day. I want you to take it easy.”

“You actually want to bring hierarchy into this? Did you think of hierarchy when you and Collins had whatever the hell you had? Or with Mohan and Abbot? Or García and Santos?” Langdon demanded, running a frustrated hand through his hair when Robby merely looked at him. “Look, not all of my actions and decisions are driven based on the fact that I'm a drug addict. Not anymore, at least. Mel…she's my friend. She's been the best support and she's the only one that lets me take things one step at a time. She's good. She's the most good. I would put myself through rehab again before hurting her.” 

Robby smiled despite himself. “You're hearing yourself, right?” 

Langdon sighed before rubbing a hand against the back of his neck. “Yeah, I'm hearing myself. I'm a fucking cliché.” 

Robby barked out a laugh. He raised a hand as if to clasp it on Langdon's shoulder, lowering it awkwardly after a moment. “For the record, I don't want to see you hurt either. I'm still here if you need anything.” 

“I'm okay.” 

“I know. But I still need to check in. It's part of my job.” 

Langdon nodded, both of them recognizing it for the only appreciation he would allow to show towards his mentor at the moment. “Good talk?” 

Robby grimaced, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling. After a moment, he nodded. “Good talk. Get back to work.” 

Langdon only had to walk a few steps away from Robby to notice Mel carefully studying something on a tablet next to the nurses’ station, the new girl Kate beside her. As if feeling his eyes on her, Mel looked up, smiling when she locked eyes with him.

“Hey! Come take a look at this.”

“Are those the results on our pneumonia patient?” 

“Gen, yes.” Mel handed him the tablet as Kate leaned against the desk by her other side. “Look at this x-ray. See that pleural effusion?” 

Langdon winced. “That’s a lot of fluid in her right lung. We're gonna need to do a lung puncture and examine that fluid to see if we're talking about an infection or an underlying disease here.” 

“She'll also breathe much better even if we get a little bit of the fluid out of her lung,” Mel added before turning towards Kate. “Any luck getting her mom to come here?” 

“Andy. Yeah, I talked to her. She started a new job this week so she can't afford to miss out on work now, as that's the only income she and Gen have,” Kate shook her head in understanding. “As you know, you guys can go ahead with the treatment given it's an emergent procedure. Since her mom isn't here, I'll be in the room with her while you explain the procedure, make sure she understands what's happening and that I'm there to advocate for her if need be.” 

“Thank you,” Mel replied before looking at Kate as if she was seeing her for the first time. “I don't think I introduced myself. I'm Dr. King, but everyone calls me Mel.” 

Kate smiled at that, her eyes bright as she shook hands with Mel. “And I'm Kate. It's very nice to meet you, Mel.” 

“And this is, Dr. Frank Langdon,” Mel nodded, watching how Frank extended an arm before her so he could shake hands with Kate.

“Langdon is more than alright. Welcome to the Pitt, Kate.” 

“Thanks,” Kate replied brightly before cocking her head curiously. “No other nicknames for you?” 

Langdon snorted despite himself. “More than I can count, unfortunately. You'll hear them soon enough.” 

Kate chuckled. “Sounds like quite a story. Looking forward to it.”

oOo

“What made you decide to become a social worker?” Mel asked as she and Kate walked out of Gen's room, Langdon staying behind to prepare Gen for the lung puncture. When Kate didn't reply instantly, Mel frowned. “I'm sorry if that was too personal a question, forget I said anything.” 

“No, it's okay. I was just trying to figure out a way too answer without oversharing. People have told me I can be a little bit overbearing,” Kate chuckled. As they reached the nurse station, Kate leaned against the desk while Mel looked up towards the board, her tablet clutched to her chest. “I'm the oldest of four and growing up, we just had our mom. I did my best to help her but as I grew up and got into college, I started to see that we could have actually gotten help and I wondered why hadn't my mom looked for it. Was she too proud? Were the people she talked to assholes? In any case, I thought I could see if I could make a difference.” 

“I get it, I'm my sister's primary care giver.” Mel nodded. “Did you ever get the chance to ask your mother that?” 

“She died when I was 20.” 

“Oh,” Mel gulped nervously. “My mother died too.” 

Kate threw a lazy smirk in her direction. “Think we should start a club for orphans?”

“Can I join? I can get us t-shirts,” Santos interjected as she suddenly joined them. She extended a hand in Kate's direction. “Trinity Santos, nice to meet you.” 

“You as well, Trinity.” Kate shook her hand confidently. “And you can absolutely join, right Mel? What should we do, drinks?” 

Both Mel and Trinity opened her mouth to respond just as McKay walked up to them, her smile hesitant as it fell on Kate. “Hey. Kate, right?” 

“Yes,” Kate straightened immediately as she sensed the professional tone. “Dr. McKay, right?” 

“Cassie, please.” Cassie replied, her gaze already dropping to her tablet. “I wanted to run a patient by you. I have a 22-year-old female with a broken wrist after falling on her way up the stairs in her own house. She's in college, gender studies major, and is living with her parents for savings purposes. She's been asking me a lot of questions that have me wondering whether I'm sensing something here.” 

“Okay, what kind of questions?” 

“She tells me she's asexual and hasn't had sexual intercourse as of yet. She's gone to see a gynecologist, who told her it wasn't necessary for her to get a PAP screen as of yet as there's almost no risk of her having HPV.” Cassie frowned. “But she tells me that her mother has been very insistent on her getting it anyway and that she ignores her every time she tells her she's asexual.” 

“Okay. First of all, did she agree for you to share the information regarding her sexual orientation with us?” 

Cassie nodded, a small, smug smile adorning her lips. “Yes, she did. I actually kind of stan her, she's so much more confident than I was when I was her age.” 

“I can imagine. In a world in which we're bombarded with the message that we should desire to have sex, realizing that we don't feel that desire means discerning between all kinds of attraction and coming to terms with the fact that we're more or less interested depending on the kind of attraction. It takes a lot lf maturity and self introspection to figure it out. The respect she got from her doctor, she also deserves it from her parents.” Kate cursed under her breath as she shook her head slowly. “I can talk to her, of course. There are some resources I can tell her about. Particularly, I think there are some LGBTQIA+ centers here in Pittsburgh that are focused on highschool and college students. What's her name?” 

As Cassie and Kate retreated, still engaged in conversation, Mel and Trinity remained standing there, her jaws slightly slacked.

“That,” Trinity paused to gulp slightly. “That was hot.” 

Mel didn't hear, her mind reeling from the words she had heard, that little speech causing havoc within her. 

“Mel? Mel, you alright?” 

Mel barely heard her, her ears ringing, her brain feeling as if it had been filled with cotton.

She couldn't reply. 

All she could do was retreat as fast as she could, her head down so no one would notice the panic in her gaze or the flush adoring her cheeks.

She had to get out. 

She had to get out.

Chapter Text

“How are you feeling, Gen?” Langdon asked as he entered his patient's room, Kate trailing behind him.

Gen lifted her head slightly from her position on her bed, curled up to her side so she wouldn't press on her back after the lung puncture. She winced before shrugging. “It hurts a little bit.” 

“How much, from one to ten, ten being the worst?”

“Two.” 

Langdon leveled her with an unimpressed look.

After a moment, Kate smiled sheepishly. “Fine. Five.” 

“I'll see about getting you something for the pain, Gen. Be right back,” Langdon turned on his feet to depart the room, mentally praying he wouldn't have to go to Robby for a prescription for Gen. In any other case, he wouldn't hesitate to wait to find Mel or even Collins but, well, he actually liked the kid. 

“Thank you, Dr.Langdon.” Gen called softly before curling even more into herself, her next whisper almost reluctant. “I'm sorry.” 

And that, that stopped Langdon dead in his tracks. 

“Why are you apologizing, darling?” Kate asked softly as she took a seat beside Gen's head.

“I really didn't think I was this sick,” Gen admitted, her cheeks colouring when Kate merely looked at her with an understanding smile. “I don't like bothering you all.” 

“Well, I don't know about Dr.Langdon, but I will say you are one of the easiest and coolest patients I've had the pleasure to talk to. Don't tell anyone else, though, wouldn't like them to know I play favourites,” Kate replied, her smile widening when Gen's shoulders relaxed slightly. 

“I think it's actually really hard to tell how sick we are,” Langdon quipped from his place by the door. He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms before his chest. “Even for us doctors. I think we are taught to keep moving no matter what, so we don't want to think that we could actually be sick and need to rest.” 

“I guess,” Gen chuckled despite herself. “I feel like an idiot.” 

Langdon frowned. “I know this must be scary for you, Gen, but I promise we're doing our best to make you better as soon as possible. That lung puncture we did is letting you breathe better because of the fluid we took out of your lung and, as soon as we know what caused the pneumonia, we'll have a clear treatment plan to get you on your feet.” 

Gen's face snapped in his direction. “You don't know what caused it yet?” 

Langdon frowned as he noticed her clear dismay. “Not at the moment but Dr. King and I are still waiting on some results. We should be able to figure it out very soon.” 

Gen slowly lay her head back on the pillow, her gaze wide and anxious as it focused on the wall in front of her. 

Langdon threw Kate a baffled look, but the other woman only shook her head, silently motioning him to stay silent.

“Gen, from what we've talked, I gather that you take pride in being independent. You have made your mom's life as easy as you can and you like the fact that she can depend on you. Would you say I'm on the right track here?” Kate began softly, leaning slightly forward when Gen nodded slowly. “Being here is hard, especially alone, especially not knowing exactly what's going on. I want to be very clear, Gen. You've done everything you could. When you started sensing your symptoms, you took medicine to feel better. When you realized you were getting worse, you called an ambulance. When Dr. King and Dr. Langdon asked you question after question, you answered to the best of your abilities. You've been your best advocate. You're doing amazing, darling.” 

Gen sniffed. “I just feel-.” 

Kate slowly extended a hand towards Gen. A silent invitation. “You feel what, darling?” 

Gen looked at Kate. After a moment, she clutched Kate's hand with hers. “I feel ashamed.” 

“Everything you feel is valid. I don't have to tell you that.” Kate gently, yet firmly declared. “I will say, though, that you're in a place filled with people who want to take care of you. People who want to see you get better. People who will only think you have been an excellent patient and advocate. You've asked for help, darling. You are getting that help. Nobody did that for you, you did it on your own. That's all that matters. Do you think shame has any business here?” 

Gen shook her head slowly, breathing slowly as hot, large tears fell from her wide eyes.

And, after a moment, she looked at Langdon.

“I think I know how I got pneumonia.” 

Langdon cleared his throat, blinking more times than necessary to clear the mist from his eyes. After a moment, he nodded and walked to sit beside Kate. 

“Excellent, Gen. Let's hear it.” 

oOo

“I kind of want to hug her and protect her from the world,” Kate mused as she walked out of Gen's room, Langdon closing the door firmly behind them.

Langdon chortled a laugh before running a hand through his face. “I get that. Fucking heartbreaking.” 

“Emotionally abusive dad, the pressure to get into a good scholarship, the fear of bothering her mom. No shock her defenses are so run down. She's only 16, she shouldn't have to cope with this much.” Kate sighed before shaking her head. After a moment she turned towards Langdon. “I don't know about you and Mel, but I think we should get a Psych consult, at the very least to get an official recommendation for therapy.” 

Langdon nodded. “I agree. Will you be there for the consult?” 

“At least to introduce them. Whether I stay after that, that's up to Gen,” Kate replied as she unconsciously tugged on her sweater’ sleeves. 

Langdon watched her carefully. “You okay?” 

Kate nodded immediately. “Of course. It's just, some patients hit you harder than others, right?” 

“Absolutely,” Langdon snorted before hesitating, considering his next words for a moment. “Thank you. For what you said in there. She needed to hear that and honestly, so did I.” 

Kate cocked her head, taking Langdon in carefully. “Dr. Robby said this was your first day back.” 

“That he did.” 

“I won't ask.” 

Langdon shrugged. “Everyone gossips here. You're bound to find out.” 

“I won't hear any of it. Not if you take issue with me knowing.” Kate replied easily, her smile growing understanding as she noticed the blush running down Langdon's neck. Swiftly, she changed the subject. “I'll let you know how it goes, of course. Psych's consult on Gen.”

“And I'll see about getting a rush on the lab results, I want to confirm the infection before getting set on a treatment plan,” Langdon sighed as he looked around. “Speaking of it, have you seen Mel?” 

Kate turned to look around the Pitt as well, her brows furrowing as neither caught a glance on the blonde and angelic resident. Before any could voice their theories on where she could be, though, they were joined by a third party.

“Have you seen Mel?” Santos asked as she stepped beside them.

“We were wondering the same thing,” Langdon replied before frowning at her. “Did you need her for something?” 

Santos hesitated. “No, I-she mumbled something about needing some air and… and I haven't seen her since.” 

“How long was this?” 

“...fifteen minutes?” 

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit.” Langdon cursed heatedly, his gaze on the floor as he thought deeply. After a moment, he looked up and nodded at Kate. “Go get that psych consult. Let me know how it goes.” 

“Absolutely. Let me know if you need anything.” 

“What are we doing?” Santos asked as Langdon stalked towards the nurses’ station. She cursed as she attempted to catch up with him in vain.

“You are helping me find Robby so I can get a pain meds' prescription for my pneumonia kid. After that, I am finding Mel. Alone.” 

“You realized she's probably tucked away in some corner with her lava lamp app, right?” 

“For fifteen minutes?” 

Santos grumbled. “I hate it when you're right.” 

oOo

Mel knew she lived in a world that was absolutely fucked up towards autistic people like herself or her sister. It was demanding, it was unforgiving, it was relentless.

And if there was something that she learned, that was that she needed time. More than that, she fucking deserved it. So, if the world wouldn't give her that, then she would demand that grace for herself. 

As far as her anxiety attacks, this one was fairly unremarkable. Neither the worst nor the best. By the time she got to sixty three deep breaths, she was finding it easier to focus on her surroundings, so much that she was beginning to forget she was supposed to count her breaths.

The temperature had risen a notch since she started her shift but not by much, winter still very much King. The wind was gentle, yet biting as it danced around her, doing its best to seep through her heavy, navy coat and into her bones.

From her place on that root, there weren't many hiding options. From the wind, from the cold, from her feelings. Take your pick. Mel didn't care. She wasn't looking to hide, she was looking to feel.

“Which song are you going through this time?” 

Mel smiled despite herself, never taking her gaze off the landscape around her. It went as far as her eyes went. She didn't think she had ever seen anything so larger than life.

“Not Like Us.” 

“Kendrick,” Frank mused as he stood beside her. “You are much cooler than I could ever be, King.” 

Mel shook her head with a chuckle. “Don't bullshit me.”

“I could never,” Frank promised. He turned towards her calmly. “Want company?” 

Mel smiled to her feet. It wasn't the first time he'd had to ask her such a question. It was the first time she hadn't had to teach someone how to ask.

He asked as easily as if he'd been asking whether the sky is blue. He asked with the tone she needed to know it truly didn't matter what her answer was, he would respect her and not take offense. 

It was refreshing.

“Company, please.” 

Frank buried his hands even deeper into his coat's pockets. “Wanna talk about it?” 

“I…I don't know if I'm gonna make sense.” 

“You've always made sense to me. Even so, it's okay if you don't. Make sense, that is. Your feelings are still gonna be real and valid even if I struggle to make sense of them.” 

“Santos called you my work husband,” Mel blurted out, immediately covering her mouth with a hand. 

Frank sighed. “Yeah, I figured that would be an issue.” 

Mel turned towards Frank, a frown covering her features. “You noticed?” 

Frank didn't want to tell the truth. That of course he did. He noticed everything when it came to Mel. He had gotten to a point in which he was equally proficient in medicine and in taking notice of everything related to Melissa King. 

He desperately wanted to tell the truth.

And, at the same time, he would rather dig himself into the ground than speak his thoughts into tangible existence. 

Mel, above everything, didn't deserve to carry with his half processed feelings. 

“I can talk to Santos,” Frank offered instead.

“No, no. It's okay. It really is, I'm sure being in a marriage with you would be perfectly satisfying, even if we're talking only of a work kind of marriage,” Mel mused almost subconsciously, absolutely unaware of Frank growing more and more flustered beside her. “You're my best friend. I don't think I would trust anyone more than you to be in a relationship with.” 

Frank gulped, his words having left the building entirely, maybe even the state.

After a moment, he licked his lips, choosing to ignore his heart hammering against his chest. “Okay.” 

‘Okay’

Okay?

Oh, someone fucking push him off the building already.

“When you were getting the things for Gen's lung puncture, I was talking with Kate and Cassie came to ask for her help with a patient,” Mel took a deep breath, her voice quivering with nerves. For the moment, Frank pushed his inner mortification in favour of paying attention to his best friend. “22-year-old female, broken wrist. College kid, but lives with her parents for savings purposes. She started asking Cassie a lot of PAP-screen questions because she's asexual and although she's seen a gynecologist, her mother disagrees with their recommendations.” 

Frank cursed under his breath. “We are thinking Dr. Google has a problem with her kid being asexual, then?” 

Mel nodded slowly, her gaze dropping to her shoes once again. Her voice dropped to a whisper. Her hands clenched into fists. “You should have heard Kate. I know we're all physicians and that we try to be as accepting as we can but… I've never seen anyone be such a firm advocate.” 

“I get it,” Frank interjected after a moment. His gaze was thoughtful. “Not much is known about the people who identify within the asexual spectrum. And people don't seem to be interested in learning about it.” 

“When people hear the words ‘husband’ or ‘wife’, companionship isn't the first thing assumed. Sex is. And I-,” Mel's broke, and she interlocked her hands before her chest as soon as she noticed they started to shake. “I've never heard someone say asexual people deserve respect and that their life, their identity, their whole fucking story matters. It was as if… I… as if they mattered, you know?” 

“Mel.” 

Mel shook her head, swallowing down a sob as tears rolled down her cheeks. “It's okay, Frank. I'm gonna stop crying in a second, I promise.” 

“Can I hold your hands, Mel?” 

Mel looked up in shock at that, turning slowly towards Frank, who was wearing the most earnest expression she had ever seen.

“I'm okay.” 

“I know.” 

Slowly, Mel extended her mitten covered hands, watching as Frank gently cradled them in his. He stood still for a moment, his breath shallow, his smile slight and genuine as he ran his thumbs gently across her hands. Finally, he looked up.

“What Kate said, that was the least Cassie's pacient deserved. And if this is a place in which people come and feel that they can be protected and listened to, then we're doing something right.” 

Mel gulped, her voice weak. “Frank.” 

Frank's gaze didn't falter. “You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. But you can trust me. You know that.” 

Mel nodded slowly, closing her eyes as she counted slowly until five. 

And then, she jumped.

“I'm asexual.” 

Frank smiled despite himself. His heart felt as if it had grown three sizes in pride. “Okay.” 

Mel's eyes remained firmly closed. “I've only told Becca. Before now, I mean.” 

“I feel honoured, Mel.” 

At that, Mel opened her eyes slowly, her gaze amazed because she actually believed it. “You actually do, don't you?” 

“You're my best friend, King. Of course I do.” Frank chuckled, his smile widening when Mel laughed with him. “And for the record, I also think of companionship when I hear the words ‘husband’ or ‘wife’.” 

Mel nodded slowly. “I think I will rather like being your work wife. If you want to, that is.” 

“C'mere, you fool.” Frank rolled his eyes with a snort as he enveloped his large arms around her shoulders. He closed his eyes as he felt Mel resting the side of her face against his chest. “That title has always been yours, King. You should know that.” 

“Okay. The same goes for you, Langdon.” 

oOo

Robby cracked his neck with a sigh as he typed his notes on the STEMI patient he had just treated, middle aged men already on his way to the cath lab and hopefully, a better quality of life. 

As he typed down the differential and the diagnosis he had ruled out in his path to reaching the correct one and the corresponding diagnosis, he felt himself falling into a groove he knew very well.

The rhythmic beat of the keyboard beneath his fingers, the slight smell of antiseptic enveloping him as he stood on his own in Trauma 2, the slight ache pressing down on his shoulders, classic tell of a job well done. 

So tuned in he was, that felt to notice he was no longer alone. 

Or at least, until a binder was slammed in front of him.

“What the fuck?” Robby exclaimed as he jumped on his place, turning to glare at the newcomers. “Seriously?” 

“We called you,” Collins replied smugly.

If Collins was subtle about it, McKay was the total opposite. As she retreated to stand beside her senior resident, McKay gloated openly at her attending. “Several times.” 

“Five times at least.” 

“Five? I think it was closer to ten.” 

“Okay,” Robby interrupted, chuckling despite himself. “Got it. I was too focused. What is this?” 

McKay fidgeted nervously. “The report you asked for. The amount of assaults and other violent situations women have suffered in this hospital for the past three months.” 

“And the amount of female patients we've received in the last three months who have suffered any sort of assault or violent altercations,” Collins added. “And our recommendations for a change in the protocol.” 

“Oh, excellent.” Robby straightened, flipping through the binder with great interest. “This is gonna be great for when we make a formal request for resources. I'm gonna need the two of you present in that meeting, by the way.” 

McKay sputtered. “But we aren't in charge of the department.” 

“I know, and both Abbot and I are gonna be there,” Robby explained distractedly, his focus on the report in his hands. “But it's really fucking hypocrite of me if none of the women in my department attend such a meeting, right? Besides, this is your project and your effort. This should also be your win.”

“Okay,” McKay breathed slowly, her smile widening as she exchanged a bewildered glance with Collins. “You got it, Captain.” 

“Get back to work. And thank you, McKay.” 

As McKay left, Collins crossed her arms, an impressed gaze covering her features. “That David case made an impression on you.” 

Robby looked up for a second. “It was about time, don't you think? But it wasn't only him. McKay was right, in everything she said.” 

Collins nodded slowly. “I almost wished I was here that day.” 

Robby's gaze snapped up at that. “You don't. Believe me, you don't.” 

Collins sighed. It wasn't the first time they'd discussed this. Both were stubborn. Both wanted to help. Both felt guilty for not having done enough.

Of course, they still hadn't reached an understanding on that matter.

After a long moment, Collins smiled, the argument left alone for the moment. 

“This is huge, Robby. You're doing something amazing here.” 

“I'm not doing it. You are.” 

“Take the compliment already, will you?” 

oOo

“If he must be your work husband, can I be your work best friend?” 

From Mel's other side, Langdon cackled as he searched for Gen's file in the system. “Don't be a sore loser, Santos, it isn't a good look.” 

“You should know, right?” 

“You are my work best friend,” Mel interjected easily, shrugging when Langdon threw her a scandalized look. “What? You can't have everything. Besides, she's more fun.” 

“I am horrified!” 

“Victory!” Santos laughed as she jumped on her place, Mel’s giggle harmoning perfectly. Langdon felt himself smiling despite himself.

“Ugh, this is the worst day of my life.” 

“Robby!” Dana suddenly called from her place behind the desk, phone pressed to her face. “OD kid coming in hot!” 

“ETA?” 

“Three minutes!” 

“Shit, I have an ACV patient.” Robby perked up as he noticed Collins stepping out of the bathroom. “Collins, OD kid heading our way!” 

“Debriding a patient with McKay!” 

“I got it,” Langdon felt himself saying. He straightened stubbornly when everyone turned towards him. “What, you're gonna keep every OD patient from me for the rest of my career?” 

After a moment, Robby sighed. “Fine. Get Mohan and Whittaker. Santos, exchange places with him in Triage.” 

“Want me to go with you?” Mel asked under her breath as Santos departed them, cursing under her breath the entire way. 

Langdon shook his head, trying to show more confidence than what he actually felt. “It's okay, you got Gen and your other patients. Just… you're gonna be around, right?”

Mel nodded seriously. “As long as you need me, Frank.” 

Again, Frank forced himself not to say what he was actually thinking aloud.

But, fuck's sake, she was really making it hard.

“We're still kicking today's ass, King.” 

Chapter Text

Langdon stood by the ambulance bay.

Hands buried in his pockets.

Back relaxed. Shoulders tense. 

Head tilted towards the sky, eyes fluttering close at the sunlight.

Panic brewing within him.

Mel was his emotional support angel, but he hadn't realized how much he depended on her, emotionally, until this case appeared, and she wasn't told to be in it. 

Langdon wondered what was all that about.

Was Robby setting yet another test for him? 

Did he want to get in between the close bond Langdon and Mel had formed in the four months between the Pitthell shift and his return? 

Or maybe.

Just maybe.

Maybe, he wanted Langdon prove himself, without a shadow of a doubt, that he still had what it took to be a good ED doctor.

For some reason, that last possibility was the most daunting of them all.

“You don't have to be here,” Samira suddenly spoke from beside him.

Langdon turned towards her slowly, almost lazily. Of all the face he had reunited with since the start of his shift, Mohan's had been the one he struggled to come to terms with the most.

Physically, Samira was still the same. Relatively tall, dark locks tied up into a messy bun at the back of her head, a few tendrils framing her face delicately. 

Samira had always been the kind of brilliant person who would see straight through him, right away, but was too kind to say anything about what she found.

And Langdon, even considering his seniority and his confidence in the ED, had always been impressed by her, almost intimidated. 

If Slo-Mo had lacked confidence in her skills while at work, she more than made up for it in her bed-side manners, and in the outside world. Mohan was confidence in the sense that she knew exactly why she chose that specialty, she knew she was a good advocate for her patients, and she knew that she would get to do everything she set her mind on.

And now, it was as if something in her posture was different. Her posture was taller, her shoulders were broader and her gaze was calmer as if she knew that, whatever came their way, they'd seen worse and therefore, there was nothing to fear. 

Frank was frankly terrified of her.

Slightly behind them, Whittaker nervously shifted in his place, his gaze turned back towards the Pitt behind them.

Whittaker, whose anxiety radiated from him in levels not even Langdon's had accomplished as of yet. Whittaker, who had killed a rat in front of the entire staff. Whittaker, who had put an IO on a conscious and responsive patient. Whittaker, who had joined their street team on his first day of work.

Langdon lowered his head towards the floor, shaking it slowly as he smiled softly.

If he couldn't have Mel with him, Mohan and Whittaker were probably a close second.

Fucking Robby.

After a moment, Langdon raised his head again, his gaze now fixed in the ambulance entrance. 

“I do. I have to be here,” Langdon replied, his voice hardened, almost as if he was mentally preparing himself for war.

In the distance, the ambulance sirens were growing stronger.

oOo

“Harry James, 22 years old,” the paramedic called as he rushed around the ambulance. “Benzos OD, found in bed by roommate.” 

“GCS of 8, eyes barely opening, pupils equal and reactive he's incoherent and slurred of speech, responds to pain.” a second paramedic called as she climbed down the ambulance, carefully pushing down the gurney with her. “We gave one dose of flumazenil on the field, barely responded.” 

“Another dose of flumazenil and let's get ready to intubate just in case,” Mohan ordered as she grabbed one side of the gurney, Whittaker clinging to the other. “D! Which trauma room is open?” 

“Trauma 1 is waiting for y'all!” Donahue replied as he and Perlah rushed outside to meet the gurney.

Langdon watched them rush into the ED for a second, trying to ignore his hammering heart to the best of his abilities. When that wish proved to be unlikely, Langdon turned towards the paramedics. “Do we know how this happened?” 

They shook his head, one of them staying with him while the other rushed back towards the ambulance. “Roomate says he got in too late last night, figured he had already got into bed. He found and empty bottle of pills under his bed.” 

Langdon nodded, unable to say a word as bile rised up his throat. As best as he could, Langdon patted the paramedics’ arm before he too got into the ED. 

And yet, he couldn't walk two steps without almost colliding into Dana, who was dealing with a young woman almost in hysterics. 

“Dr. Langdon,” Dana called in her measured tone, the one she used when she was done accepting any sort of nonsense. “This Elizabeth, Harry James’ sister.” 

“Finn, his roommate, he called me right after calling the paramedics,” Elizabeth explained in a tirade, her voice pitched with barely contained panic. “I work only a block away from here - is he okay? I need to see him, is my brother okay!?” 

“Ms. James, as we speak, we are doing everything we can to help your brother.” Langdon took a deep breath, ordering himself to settle his nerves. “Dana here is our charge nurse, she will get you settled in one of our best rooms and I'll come find you as soon as I have an update, alright?” 

“Finn told me he found a bottle of pills under his bed!? What the fuck happened!?” 

Dana placed a reassuring hand on her forearm. “Dear, I know this must be extremely hard for you but we need to let Dr. Langdon work with the rest of his team. Let's go get a cup of tea and wait on a update of your brother, alright? Right this way, dear.“

“I saw him yesterday and he seemed alright! I don't get it, how the fuck did this even happen!?”

Langdon couldn't stop. He turned his back on the retreating pair, rushing into Trauma 1 and closing the curtain so Elizabeth wouldn't see her brother like this.

But, as he worked, all he could think of were of her words.

How the fuck did this even happen!?

Frank wondered the same thing.

Every. Single. Fucking. Day.

oOo

“Hey, Kate.” 

Kate looked up from her notes on Gen's case, her brows slightly furrowed as she tried to keep in mind everything she wanted to add regarding the psych consult she had just witnessed, even as she smiled at the woman beside her. “Dr. Santos, how are you?” 

“Trinity, please.” Santos shrugged humbly. “The Doctor title is sometimes too serious for me.” 

Kate left her ipad on the nurses station, crossing her arms with interest. “You are a doctor, though.” 

Santos tried in vain to ignore the slight blush expanding across her neck. “Sure, but it's different when my colleagues call me so. Or the fellow members of the Orphans Club.” 

“You have a point there,” Kate lowered her head towards the floor, successfully hiding a smile. “Trinity it is, then. It's a beautiful name.” 

“Thank you,” Santos stuttered before clearing her throat. Her blush was rapidly expanding to her cheeks. “I'm not really sure why my mother chose that name.” 

“Maybe there's a secret story there?” 

Santos shook her dismissively as her eyes widened slightly. The last thing she'd wanted to do was to talk about her mother but well, there she was.

What the fuck was her life at this point.

“She probably wanted to brag to her friends that she'd come up with the most original name.” 

“That seems plausible,” Kate giggled.

“How about you?” Santos blurted, shaking her head slightly when Kate raised an eyebrow in her direction. “Is Kate a nickname?” 

“Actually no. My parents named me Kate after a great aunt, I believe.” 

Santos cocked her head in interest. “Did she deserve such an honour?” 

Kate smirked despite herself. “She was a raging homophobe so, no.” 

“Ugh,” Santos crinkled her nose in distaste. “We're going to have to find another story for you, then.” 

“I already have. I tell people I'm named after Kate Sheppard, one of the leading figures of the suffragist movement in New Zealand and one of the most important voice when it came to granting women the right to vote.” 

“Oh,” Santos paused. Her gaze was absolutely awed as she studied the woman beside her. “I hope your parents hated it.” 

Santos almost slapped her hand over her mouth, her blush deepening in hue, but Kate merely giggled loudly.

“Hopefully, a summersault or two have happened in those graves,” Kate admitted snarkily, raising her chin slightly as she turned her body fully towards the woman beside her. “You know, I almost never meet someone who can keep up with my dark sense of humour.” 

Santos smiled in pleasure at that. “Me neither, to be honest.” 

Kate regarded her silently, making Santos gulp as her hazel eyes studied every feature of her face. As Santos felt herself growing hot, she realized it’d been a while since she felt…admired, even cherished. 

And all of that, only through a look.

Santos was fucked.

“Well, hopefully we'll get to talk about our dark senses of humour later,” Kate finally mused as she turned back towards her tablet. “The Orphan Club does drink, then?” 

“Absolutely,” Santos replied confidently, her lips curving into her trademark smirk. “I mean, unless you usually drink with boys?” 

Not a moment had passed since she said those words that Santos froze, her breath catching in her throat as she rapidly dawned into the horror of what had just happened.

Oh. 

My.

God.

That was it. 

She was ending that shift only because she had a little bit of pride still, as bruised and poorly taken care of as if had been. 

But come 7pm, she was going to find Robby, quit, and move to fucking Madagascar or something equally as remote.

“Were you-” Kate started with pure delight in her voice.

“No, I wasn't!” Santos almost squeaked, mentally slapping herself.

Jesus Fucking Christ.

This was worse than the whole Javadi and Mateo situation.

“You were fishing,” Kate continued as if Santos hadn't spoken. Her eyes glimmered as if made with stars. If Santos hadn't been so mortified, she would have honestly felt them speaking to her soul. “You were fishing for information.” 

After hesitating, Santos squared her shoulders, looking at Kate right in the eye. If she was going down, she might as well go down swinging, right? 

“What if I was?” 

Santos watched in fascination as Kate slowly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her cheeks at last warming up with enchanting red. 

“Then, I would tell you I like drinking with everyone,” Kate replied, her voice lowering to something rougher, more heated. Santos gulped. “These days, though, I prefer to drink with pretty girls with interesting names.” 

“Kate!” 

Kate straightened instantly, nodding at Kiara by the other side of the ED before turning once again towards Santos. Leaning forward slightly, she pulled a secretive smirk, her eyes twirling with amusement.

“See you later, Trinity.” 

Kate didn't look back. 

Not once.

Santos should know. She watched her go every step of the way. 

“Fuck me,” Santos breathed after a moment, her voice slightly winded. If she hadn't been in the middle of the floor, she would have desperately fan at her face.

Unbeknownst to them, Dana and Princess watched the entire exchange from the other side of the nurses station, her jaws slightly slack from the shock of that exchange.

“I'm so jealous,” Princess grumbled. “I never get to connect with someone that fast.” 

Dana snorted under her breath. “I don't think either of them expected it either.” 

“You think they will last longer than Santos and García?” 

Dana shrugged. “How is it that my daughter says? Game recognizes game?” 

Princess shook her head “Fucking hell. This is so unfair.”  

oOo

As it turned out, Gen wasn't the perfect patient.

Of course, she was absolutely darling and very easy to communicate with. But, she was alone. And because of that, she was bored. Especially when it came to ordering her treatment, like the sessions of nebulizer.

And so, Mel found herself sitting by her patient's bed, to make sure she wouldn't remove the mask during the 15 minute session she had ordered to begin with.

“Okay, question 16. What's your Hogwarts House?” 

Mel cocked her head thoughtfully. “My sister says I'm a Hufflepuff but I think I'm too creative to be anything but a Ravenclaw. Same question for you.” 

“Slytherin. For sure. Also, the colours are so edgy and cool,” Gen replied before frowning. “That was a stupid question. I know that… it doesn't feel like a safe space, not anymore.” 

Mel shrugged earnestly. “I think both things can be true. It stands value as the safe place it was when you were a kid, and it is disappointing to see how it has aged. You can feel some type of way about the person that said all those things, and a different type of way about the world she created. The fact that the world she created made an impression on you as a kid doesn't mean that the world she's trying to create now should have any power or relevance in the world you are trying to create now.” 

Gen smiled sadly. “It feels really fucking tainted, to be honest.” 

“I get it,” Mel paused, considering her next words, making extra sure they were acceptable and not harming in any way. “My sister told me she spread misinformation towards the asexual community now.” 

Gen blinked. “Isn't Charlie Weasley aroace?” 

“That’s the headcannon, yes.” 

“When I was a little girl, things… they weren't fine. At home, I mean. I was scared, all the time. Scared that I would say a wrong word or misbehave or mess up and-,” Gen's voice caught and she immediately cloaed her eyes firmly before taking a deep breath. “My grandma bought me the first book a few months before she died. I instantly loved it but, most of all, I think I loved how easily I could slip away when things got scary.” 

Mel smiled with understanding. “I did the same thing with the Narnia saga.” 

“Which was your favourite sibling?” 

“Susan.” Mel nodded instantly. “I didn't like that she didn't fight much, though.” 

“You and me both,” Gen chuckled. “God, I loved those movies. I remember I would always get scared at the first scene of the first Narnia movie? You know, the one with the planes and the bombs? I hated it, but I still forced myself to watch it, as if willing myself to stop being afraid.” 

Mel stiffened as she recalled that scene. They skipped it everytime they watched the movie. “I get it.” 

Gen lowered her head, her breaths as deep as she could manage as she endured the nebulizer. She twiddled with the blanket covering her. “This nebulizer is making me nauseous.” 

“It happens,” Mel replied reassuringly. “It is kind of disgusting, if I do say so myself.” 

Even covered by the mask, Mel could see the smile lighting up Gen's face. “Are you supposed to say that?” 

Mel frowned mockingly at her. “Are you planning on going against doctor's orders?” 

Gen chuckled sadly, her head lowered. “Not anymore. I promise.” 

Mel watched her patient from her seat, her hands neatly folded on her lap, her braid falling down her back and her glasses sitting snugly on the bridge of her nose. 

When Gen didn't look up, Mel sighed. “Gen… do you think it would help to talk about it?” 

Gen rose and lowered her shoulders with a depe sigh. “Talking doesn't change anything, does it?” 

“No, but it helps us process events that have happened. I find myself talking a lot to myself when I have an specially hard case, or if I need to organize my head a little bit.” 

Gen smiled despite herself. “That’s really cool.” 

“Thank you,” Mel responded primly before tilting her head in understanding. “I hope you don't mind that Dr. Langdon shared your conversation with me.” 

“You are my doctor too.” Gen lowered her gaze, her cheeks burning. “I didn't even think of it until you mentioned infection as one of the causes.” 

“I imagine, not many people know infection can lead to pneumonia,” Mel replied gently. “I wanted to tell you that the results came up, and you do have Pneumococcus, which is a type of pneumonia caused by a bacteria called streptococcus.” 

Gen didn't look up. “I didn't think it would be this bad. I had that little cut between my toes and it itched so I scratched it and I wouldn't let it heal… I'm so sorry.” 

Mel frowned. “Gen, you didn't want to get sick.” 

Gen's bottom lip quivered. “But I didn't take care of myself.” 

“I think you were overwhelmed. You had every reason to be, from what I can see. Gen, no one has everything figured out or gives everything of themselves every day.” When Gen didn't look up, Mel leaned forward in her seat. “What happened… I don't think it matters much, to be honest. I can't imagine how hard it had to be, telling us this. But you did, you told us and now we have a set treatment plan and you're firmly on the road to recovery. You did that, Gen. You should be very proud.” 

Gen sniffed, looking at Mel with a slight smile. “You are all very supportive.” 

Mel smiled in return. “I think we all like you very much, Gen.” 

“...Can we continue playing 20 questions then?” 

“...Fine, but if my attending comes in the room we better come up with an excuse.” 

“Our favourite Pevensie is Susan, Dr. King. I don't think we'll have much trouble figuring something out." 

“Dr. King?” 

Mel stood from her chair with a bang, breathing deeply in relief when she realized it was Dr. Mohan, and not Dr. Robby, the one standing by the doorway.

“Dr.Mohan, what can I do for you?” Mel smiled cheerfully.

Samira didn't return her smile. “Could you come for a second? Dr.Langdon needs your assistance.”

Mel's smile bled from her face, her hands clammy, her heartbeat rapidly increasing.

No.

Fuck.

Please, no.

oOo

“Frank?” 

When he didn't reply, Mel entered the lounge room slowly, frowning when she didn't immediately notice him.

“Frank? It's me. Mel.” 

At that, she heard a sniff. Mel's head whirled to her right, not having the chance - not in a million years - of withholding the relieves breath she exhaled as she felt her soul coming back to her body. 

“Hey,” Mel knelt carefully, making sure to leave more than enough space between them. “Samira told me you needed me? What can I do?” 

Frank looked up slightly at that, the only thing Mel could see now being his red rimmed eyes. 

“I didn't ask for you.” 

“Oh,” Mel blinked. “I'm glad they called me anyways.” 

When Frank only covered his face again, his shoulders trembling with barely withheld sobs, Mel slowly drag herself to sit beside him, her back also to the wall, five inches of space between them. 

“We don't have to talk,” Mel offered after a moment. “But I'm going to sit here with you, if that's okay. When I'm upset… I like knowing there's someone with me, waiting for me, for as long as it takes. So I'm here. Waiting for you. For as long as it takes.” 

Easily five minutes passed, the only thing shared between Frank and Mel being air, silence, and the peace they felt with each other.

Five minutes in which Frank sobbed with varying intensity.

Five minutes in which Mel hummed to herself as she waited for him.

At last, Frank spoke from the safe haven that were his arms. “I treated an OD case.” 

“I know.” 

“My first case since I got back.” 

“I know,” Mel repeated. “And… I honestly think this would have been really fucking hard no matter when it happened.” 

Frank chortled. “I still can't get used to you cursing.” 

“You will,” Mel replied easily, smiling when Frank chuckled again. Slowly, she left her hand between them. “What can I do, Frank?” 

Frank raised his head slowly, his eyes slightly dazed as he tried to focus on Mel. “What?” 

“What can I do? How can I help?” 

Frank swallowed down a sob. “I don't know.” 

“Okay.” 

“Just…be here. Okay?” 

“You already knew I'm not going anywhere.” 

Frank choked slightly. “Mel, we saved him. We saved the kid.” 

Mel smiled slightly at that. “I know. I'm so happy for you and him and his sister.” 

For the first time, Mel watched as two tears rolled down Frank's cheeks only to be immediately wiped by him. 

She wanted to tell him he was heartbreakingly beautiful when he cried. That she wasn't scared of him or his baggage. That, if she had to, she would hold his hand forever.

But.

Well.

Some things were not meant to said out loud.

One day. Hopefully. 

“I was almost him,” Frank whispered, so suddenly that Mel almost missed it.

At that, she turned her whole body towards him, her extended hand growing taut with distress. “Yes. But you weren't. You saved him. And you're saving yourself. Step by step, day by day, you are saving yourself, Frank. I'm proud of you.” 

Frank sobbed. “I was so close.” 

Not being able to hold on any longer, Mel reached forward, sighing in relief when Frank sank into her arms, his tears wetting the front of her scrubs. “And you took yourself off the edge.” 

“I- How the fuck did that even happen? How the fuck did I get to that place?"

“Frank. You took yourself off the edge. Nothing else fucking matters, Frank. Nothing else.” 

Frank buried his face in her chest as his back shook with sobs. “Don't leave. Please don't leave.” 

Mel closed her eyes as she rested her cheeks on Frank's head. Her own tears rolled slowly down her cheeks. 

“You should learn to listen better, Frank Langdon. I already told you. I'm not leaving you.” 

Chapter Text

“So, how is Frank?” 

Mel squinted as she walked her way outside, her phone stretched before her. “He 's good. Happy to be back at work. Says he can't wait to see you on Friday.” 

On her phone, Becca smiled excitedly. “Same. I'm glad we decided to add him to our Friday night tradition.” 

Mel frowned slightly as she rested her back on the side of an ambulance. “Are you sure you don't mind that he joined our Friday night tradition?” 

Becca mirrored her expression. “No. Why?” 

Mel stammered as she tried to come up with an answer, apparently for long enough that Becca resumed charge of the conversation… which, to be fair, she tended to do.

“Don't worry, Mel, I like him a lot. He has been nice to you since the first day. He cooks for us, he brings his dog and he drives us around whenever we need to.” Becca shrugged easily. “He's the best boyfriend you've had.” 

Mel choked on air.

Becca watched her as if she had been saying something frankly obvious, not as if she had just shifted the ground beneath Mel's feet. 

“Becca, he is not my boyfriend.” Mel finally managed to declare, more than aware that her red face wasn't helping her sell her argument. “I would have told you if he was your boyfriend, Becs.” 

Now it was Becca's turn to look confused. “Why isn't he your boyfriend, then? Are you afraid of getting hurt? Because I think Frank wouldn't hurt you at all.” 

Mel looked at her sister slightly wildly, her bewilderment growing when Becca merely stared at her. 

It's as if the fucking world was exploding around her and she was the only one noticing.

“Becca, I don't think he likes me like that.” 

“Have you asked him?” 

“...No?” 

“Then how can you know for sure?” 

Mel stared.

Becca smirked.

“Tell me about this new roommate of yours,” Mel finally asked, her voice slightly choked as she silently fought with the way her heart was hammering in her chest.

And as Becca went on a detailed report on her new roommate, their likes and their dislikes, their favourite movies and the snacks they hated, Mel looked up at the clouds slowly moving above her.

It was only 11 in the morning.

What a fucking day.

oOo

Frank prided himself in being able to maintain his calm demeanor even in the worst or most tensioned circumstances. 

It actually was one of the things he liked the most about him and, he was pretty sure, it had been what had carried him through these months of hell.

If Frank had to describe these four months with a few words, he would have had an answer ready to go. These past few months had been the Months of Difficult Conversations.

Because, yes, he had also had to do some pretty difficult shit. He had to get sober. He had to go through rehab. He had to get a new flat, find some way to deal with the added responsibility of a dog, and figure out how to continue being a good dad. He had to go through the excruciating process of being accepted back at PTMC and now, all day he had been dealing with his workmates and their various reactions to him being back to work.

All of that, he had found relatively easy to do. Or, maybe not easy, but direct in the sense that he had to do it. Not doing all of it meant losing everything he somehow still had in his life. After watching the world explode around him, not doing all of it meant losing on the chance to rebuild it.

The conversations, however. 

Taking Abby's well deserved anger and betrayal, only to move on to divorce proceedings and the path towards coparenting. Dealing with Robby's clipped words and severe expressions. Helping his kids work through the fact that he wasn't going to live with them anymore, and that Mommy and Daddy were no longer going to be together.

Sometimes, Frank was honestly surprised he hadn't died because of those.

So yes, he had dealt through all of that and he had maintained the calm facade he usually only used at work because he felt that, if he had imploded the world around the people who cared about him, then it was his responsibility to at least help them through the aftermath.

Frank was proud of himself. Or at least, he was pleasantly surprised he had gotten to where he was. Four months ago, he truly thought that was it for him.

But, there he was. Stuck in Central 15, his fingers flying through the keyboard as he rapidly jotted down the notes related to Harry's case. His patient, his benzos OD patient, fast asleep after having woken in the Trauma Room for a few seconds. 

“Where am I?” 

Frank cursed under his breath. He so wanted to make Mohan deal with the patient and his family.

“Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center,” Frank replied as he turned towards the young man sitting up in bed in a panic. He approached him slowly. “It's okay, Harry, you're going to be okay.” 

“Who are you?” Harry stammered, his voice quivering with nerves. “What happened? Why am I here?” 

“I'm Dr. Langdon and I'm the physician in charge of your case.” Frank took a deep breath, silently praying his calm demeanor wouldn't slip. “Your roommate called the ambulance after he found you unresponsive in bed. How are you feeling?” 

Harry's eyes widened, his back sagging against his pillow as he seemed to recall the events. He licked his dry lips, his left hand encircling his right wrist and digging his nails into the skin. “Oh.” 

“Harry, I want you to know that you're going to be fine,” Frank started softly as he sat on a stool by Harry's side. “We treated your symptoms and, if everything goes alright, we just need to keep you here for a few hours in observation before we discharge you and you and your sister can go home.” 

Harry straightened in panic. “My sister’s here?” 

Frank frowned slightly. “Yes, and she would like to see you, if you're okay with that?” 

“No.” Harry shook his head frantically. “Absolutely not, she cannot see me like this, please.” 

“Okay,” Frank raised his hands slightly in an appeasing manner. “It's okay, Harry, she doesn't have to come here. I promise.” 

Harry didn't reply or even looked at Frank. He slowly sank against his bed, curling his legs closer to him and resting his face on his knees.

Frank watched him, his stomach slowly plummeting. If this had been a cartoon, a lightbulb would have lit above his head. A lightbulb he so wished didn't need to be lit up in the first case. 

“I'll be right back, okay Harry?” Frank began as calmly as he could, ignoring the way his voice broke at the end. He stood up and walked slowly towards the door. “If you need anything, and I mean anything, get the nurses to page me and I'll be here in a moment, okay?” 

Frank waited for Harry to demonstrate he had heard - in this case by nodding minutely into his knees - before he made it outside, his long legs making strides towards the nurses’ station.

“Hey kid, Robby was looking for you.” Dana looked at Frank from over her glasses. She must have noticed something he was trying and failing to hide, because she frowned after a moment. “You alright?” 

“I need you to page Robby and Kiara,” Frank replied, ignoring her last question.

Dana nodded, getting to work without really taking her eyes off the senior resident. “Kate was just here if you could use her-.” 

“I need Kiara.” 

Dana cocked her head. “Your OD case?” 

Frank nodded, his gaze lowering towards the desk. Suddenly, the papers scattered across the wood were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen.

“What are you thinking?” 

Frank shook his head. “I don't want to say it out loud, Dana. Not yet.” 

A hand enveloped his, making Frank look up in surprise. In front of him and on the opposite side of her desk, Dana was smiling at him, the same way she smiled at him before he left. “I'm happy you're here with us, kid.” 

Frank took a deep breath, nodding slightly as he felt his eyes burning with unshed tears. 

And then, just behind Dana, Mel came out of a patient room flanked by Mohan and Santos.

As if noticing his gaze on hers, Mel turned around, smiling at him once they locked eyes.

Frank straightened, distractedly noticing the way his heartbeat returned to normal, the way he could breathe a little bit easier.

Melissa King had the best timing and that's something Frank Langdon was grateful for everyday.

“Langdon, you paged?” 

Frank turned around, his calm demeanor once again firmly placed. He nodded at Robby. “I think I need to get my OD patient to consent to a Psych consult, mind going through the case with me?” 

oOo

“Before I forget, don't worry. I already talked to Langdon.” 

Mel looked up from their unconscious patient, who came miraculously stable from an MVC except for the fact that he was still unconscious and needed to have his multiple cuts stitched. She frowned blankly at Santos. “I know. I saw you two.” 

“No, I mean-.” Santos paused and shook her head. “I told him I would kill him if he hurt you so - don't worry, I got your back.” 

“Oh,” Mel felt her jaw go slack. “Thanks. Why though?” 

It was Santos’ turn to look at her as if she'd grown a third head. “You seriously don't know?” 

“What?” 

“The only reason why that boy doesn't kiss the floor beneath your feet is because he'd probably catch a disease.” 

“What?” 

“Oh my god,” Santos deadpanned. She paused her stitching to glance towards the opened door, her gaze brightening when she caught sight of Mohan walking through the ED. “Oi, Mohan! Get in here!” 

“You two doing okay?” Mohan asked as she walked into the room, taking quick stock of the patient before her and the extent of his injuries. She then smiled at the girls. “Also, hi. Don't think I saw you today, Trinity. Mel, we saw each other when I went to look for you.” 

“Why did you go look for her?” Santos straightened in her seat, patient momentarily forgotten.

“Frank… we had that OD patient. He didn't take it all too well, so I figured he could use a friendly face.” Mohan explained, distractedly before glancing pointedly at the injuries Santos was supposed to be treating. “You need help over there?” 

Santos rolled her eyes, picking up her instruments again before cocking an eyebrow in Mel's direction. “So ER Ken crashes out and we all know you're the best one to help him. Still thinking he doesn't have feelings for you?”

“What!?” 

“I thought you two were already together and you didn't want to tell us because it was too soon or something,” Mohan interjected as she knelt in front of a cabinet, looking for the gauze she needed for a patient in triage, and to justify spending some needed time with her friends. “Is that not the case?” 

“No!” Mel exclaimed, innerly grateful that, if she had to have this conversation, it was in the presence of only her two best friends in the ED. “Why would it be?” 

“He looks at you as if you're the sun. It's frankly disgusting.” Santos wrinkled her nose before nodding in Mel's direction. “That’s the least you deserve, of course, and he better look at you like that every single day of his life. But, well, I kind of hate him.” 

Mohan crossed her arms before her chest. “I thought he apologized?” 

Santos shrugged. “I hate him on principle. It was a good apology, though. Unfortunately.” 

Mel nodded, praying that the conversation had shifted onto safer waters. “He practiced. A lot.” 

Mohan seemed endeared. “Really? That's sweet.” 

“That clown,” Santos was delighted by the new information. “How many times did he practice?” 

“Um, he wanted to make sure he got it right, I think.” Mel swallowed nervously, panicking slightly as she felt herself growing warm. “He wanted to get as much of a fresh start as he could, I guess? Not that he told me, of course.” 

“But he does tell you stuff,” Mohan interjected gently. Her smile grew understanding when Mel flickered her gaze in her direction. “He trusts you. Enough that you were the only one he wanted to see in rehab.” 

“I don't know about that,” Mel began to protest but Santos waved a hand in indifference.

“And you met his kids through facetime. And he knows your sister.” Santos declared, her smile turning smug when Mel's blush deepened.

“Because we're friends. You two also know Becca!” 

“Mel, we are not trying to corner you here.” Mohan sat on a stool by the end of the bed, glaring at Santos when she made a sound of protest. “I guess we just wanted to talk about it because we're your friends, we love you, and we want to make sure you are doing alright.” 

“Hence, me threatening Langdon.” 

“You are not helping, Trinity.” 

“And you are Samira?” 

“Why would I not be alright?” Mel mused aloud, mroe confused than anything else. “He’s my friend. That's it.” 

Santos and Mohan exchanged a look before the latter shrugged peacefully. “I think, if we're being honest, we were worried he was taking advantage of your kindness now that he's in a very vulnerable position.” 

“You know, with him getting divorced and not seeing his kids and fighting with Robby.” Santos shook her head. “It couldn't have been easier, coming back here after everything. Dealing with the stares and the gossip as if he was some sort of villain, instead of dealing with a disease. I hate him, but I actually do hold a lot of emphathy for him. That doesn't mean he gets to use you just because you are an angel gracing us with your presence.” 

“It isn't like that,” Mel rushed to explain before either of her friends could say anything else. She kept her gaze on her patient, noticing with relief she was almost done. “Yes, I guess I listen to him when he needs to vent but he does the same for me. He has dinner with me and my sister every friday, he drives us around whenever we need to, he… he listens, you know? I know it is the least I deserve but he takes the time to know and to listen to me and to make sure I'm happy. I… I don't think I've ever known anyone like him, you know? We're a team and I'm really glad he's here.” 

For a moment, Santos and Mohan looked at Mel, completely devoid of words as they watched their peaceful friend defend someone so passionately. In turn, Mel's cheeks were definitely warmed with something other than the room temperature but her demeanour was peaceful as she finished up her work on their patient.

Noticing Santos had also finished up, Mel stood from her seat, distantly noticing Santos and Mohan flanking her as they stepped into the corridor. 

“I could use some help in the waiting room,” Mohan finally spoke, her voice slightly awed. “Do you two mind grabbing a couple of patients each to empty it a little bit more?” 

As Santos nodded her agreement, Mel looked slowly towards the nurses station, noticing she was already being watched.

Mel and Frank locked eyes, and she couldn't help but smile in relief when Frank beamed at her. 

They were okay. They got each other and they were going to be okay.

“I'll grab three,” Mel promised before practically skipping in the direction of Triage, leaving Santos and Mohan behind.

“How long before Mel starts bringing him to our hang outs?” 

Santos groaned. “Shoot me. Shoot me now.” 

Chapter Text

“Hey, do you mind writing down the differential in Mr. Francis’ chart?” 

Collins straightened slowly, wincing as her shoulders cracked. She straightened her arms behind her back with a sigh before nodding at Robby. “Sure.” 

Noticing the two of them had been left alone in Trauma 1, their patient - Mr. Francis, who had come in with several fractures after he fell off his hoverboard - having been rolled towards the OR a few minutes before, Robby cracked his neck before shooting Collins a weary smile. “Thanks, Collins. I really appreciate the effort you’ve pulled here lately. I mean, you always give it your best but this past few months…thank you. Really.” 

“Of course,” Collins crossed her arms before her chest, noting how Robby approached the computer by the edge of the room, apparently in no hurry to leave. “You okay?” 

Robby turned towards her. He took a second to put on his glasses before raising his eyebrows quizzically. “Why wouldn't I be?” 

Collins rolled her eyes. Not this denial bullshit again. “I don't think you've ever thanked me twice in… ever, really.” 

Robby threw her an unimpressed look. “Would you rather I didn't?” 

“Robby.” 

Robby sighed, simultaneously hating and loving that she made him cave so easily. “I know I probably seem crazy, okay? But you weren't here for that MCI and I'm sorry but I don't know how to explain how it changed me. I really wish I did but-.” 

“I think you can,” Collins interjected softly. She rested her elbows on the hospital cot, keeping it between them for his sake and frankly, for hers as well. “I think you sell yourself short so you won't disappoint anyone but you don't have to fear that. Not with me.” 

“Because I've already disappointed you enough?” 

Collins didn't even smile. “Any chance stand up is true calling?” 

Robby snorted before resting his glassed on top if his head, rubbing his eyes tiredly right after. “I've been told my humour borders too much on self depreciation to actually work with other people.” 

“You don't have to talk to me about it if you don't want to.” By this point, Collins had already learned that when it came to Robby, sometimes approaching the issue directly was the best path. “But… have you thought about talking to someone maybe? And I'm talking about a professional, not any of us suckers.” 

Robaby chuckled despite himself, his shoulders moving in a way they only did when his amusement was real, something that didn't happen very often.

What came next was an admission so obviously, Robby would look anywhere but at her. “I already am.” 

Collins blinked. “That’s-.” 

“Insane?” 

“Shut up,” Collins snapped, smiling when Robby chuckled again. He had been laughing more regularly as of late, something she was only now truly noticing. “That’s amazing, Robby. How is it going?” 

“I cried during my first session.” 

Collins fidgeted with the sleeves of her red hoodie, her gaze downcast. “I think it's very hard not to cry during the first therapy session. I think it's very hard not to cry during therapy sessions, period.” 

“Jesus, can't wait.” 

Collins walked around the cot, sitting on it and noticing with surprise that Robby turned his body fully towards her, even as he remained by the edge of the room. “You deserve to heal. You know that, right?” 

Robby shook his head as he snorted softly. “I broke. That day. Pittfest. I…everyone needed me, we were drowning in patients, there were rumors that the shooter could be headed our way and I. I broke. In the fucking makeshift morgue, of all places. I refuse to break again. I'm not failing any of you again.” 

“You think you failed us?” Collins was aghast. She forced herself to stay in place as she noticed his gaze flickering across the room nervously. “Robby, you lost 6 patients. That's more than 90% of the patients you received, treated and saved because of you. You walked them through the protocol, you shifted from room to room, making sure everyone was on top of things. If everyone worked as well as they did, and they did because what you all established was a fucking record of saves, it was because you were their leader. You did not fail any of us.” 

Robby took a deep breath. After a long second, a second in which they allowed all of their history to travel between them, he looked up at Collins with barely held grief. 

Collins almost gasped. She had never, never , seen him be this open and sincere.

“I did, though.” The way he stated was simple, as if he was talking about the weather. “I failed you all.” 

They stared at each other almost in an unwilling competition. 

Robby didn't have to explain. 

Collins needed no explanation.

Because that day, he had pushed Langdon, shaming him when he needed a better approach.

That day, he lost his stepson's girlfriend, and then he lost his stepson.

That day, he was forced to relive his mentor's death over and over again.

And at the end of that day, he stood on that fucking roof, undecided on whether he should walk forward or backwards, only saved from time and from a decision by a friend who had shouldered as much burden as he did.

“I'm so sorry I wasn't here,” Collins finally whispered. “I swear, that's the last time I'll listen to you.” 

Robby cocked his head, his smile almost adoring. “You deserve to heal, Heather. I'm really glad you weren't here, even if I - and everyone - would have been better for it.” 

“Okay. Then, can I say this?” Collins took a few steps forward, her heart quickening when Robby didn't move. “I'm not sure where I fall in that ‘I failed’ statement. I don't think it matters. I know that not all the burden you're carrying is related to me but what it is related to me, I forgive. I forgive you. I'll say it as many times as you need me to. You and I, we're okay, you hear me?” 

Collins had kind of forgotten how beautiful his eyes were when they smiled at her. She didn't know how could she have forgotten a sight like that. 

“You're too kind.” 

“And you need to take the fucking compliment for once,” Collins bristled, scowling when Robby buried his hands in his hoodie with a sheepish smile. “I swear to god, I will talk to your therapist.” 

That did it. Robby let out a downright cackle before nodding despite himself. “Okay. I'll take it. I appreciate it, Heather, thank you.” 

“Of course,” Collins moved towards the door, intending to jump into the next trauma case in a poor attempt of processing the conversation that had just transpired. 

But, as she reached for the metallic doorknob, a feeling made her pause. 

Or maybe, just maybe, it wasn't a feeling.

Maybe it was a thought. 

The thought that he had been truthful to her for the first time in…four months, since the ambulance.

So, even if she didn't owe him anything, the idea of being truthful to him in return felt right.

“Michael?” Collins didn't have to turn around to know he was listening. Listening to his breath catch was sign enough. “I once told you it isn't my responsibility to save you and I stand by it. That doesn't mean I can't walk with you while you save yourself. I'm still here. I'm still here with you.” 

Without another word, she opened the door and joined the chaos outside, taking half her aching heart with her.

And leaving the other half with him.

oOo

During his stint in rehab, he'd become friendly with an Argentinian woman - a patient just like him - who had shown him the wonders of the mate.  

Healthier than red bull or even coffee, with the same power to keep him awake and novel enough that it itched his need for adrenaline in life, Frank had become slightly obsessed with the bitter drink.

So, of course, he forgot his mate and thermos at home.

And of course, he wouldn't drink Red Bull so early in the morning because he'd promised Mel he would start eating and drinking healthier (and he kind of associated the drink to negative memories now, sadly). 

He had no other option. Burnt coffee from the staff lounge, then. 

Frank opened the door in a rush, already visualizing himself experiencing the relief of drinking that warm liquid after more than four hours running around and being subjected to the gossip, stares and opinions of the entire staff.

From the other side of the room, McKay looked up from her phone with a start, her bangs falling messily around her face. “Looking for something, Langdon?” 

“Coffee,” Frank nodded his head, his strides long and purposeful as he approached the coffeemaker on the sink. “How are you, Cassie?” 

“Great. Harrison is turning twelve this week, I'm taking the day off and we're going hiking.” McKay's gaze brightened. “I don't know who's more excited, him or me.” 

Frank raised an eyebrow. “Have you ever gone hiking?” 

“Fuck no,” Cassie snorted. “It isn't about that though, something I think you might understand.” 

Frank thought of his kids. Tanner had gone to his first swimming lesson the week before. Millie lost her first tooth a few days before, showing her gaping smile proudly whenever they talked on facetime.

Frank's hand gripped the friendship bracelet as he turned towards the coffeemaker. “Yeah. I do.” 

McKay tilted her head in empathy. “How are you doing Frank?” 

Frank shot her a small smile. “Fine, thanks.” 

Cassie narrowed her eyes. “Forgive me, Frank, but I think that's bullshit.” 

Frank guffawed despite himself. He brought up his steaming cup to his lips before shooting McKay a smirk. “And you know that because you know me so well, I gather?” 

“I know that because I said the same bullshit when I first came out of rehab.” 

Frank's heart stopped. “I-.” 

McKay took pity on him. “You didn't know, Langdon. It 's okay.” 

“I'm still sorry,” Frank was sheepish. McKay didn't think she'd ever seen him sheepish. “How long has it been?” 

McKay straightened proudly. “7 years, 8 months, 23 days.”

“That’s amazing, Cassie.” Frank's voice was awed, melancholic, filled with desire for a day in which he had also reached such a milestone.

“Thank you, Frank.” McKay nodded gratefully. “For what it's worth, you seem to be doing much better than I did at first.” 

Frank slowly moved to sit in front of McKay, glancing nervously towards the closed door before taking a few sips of his coffee. He winced as he burned his tongue. “I'm not. I'm a fucking disaster.” 

McKay snorted. “I'm sorry to tell you, but I think that just makes you a human like the rest of us.” 

Frank chortled, his hand fidgeting with his friendship bracelet. After a moment, he couldn't help but open his mouth, voicing insecurities he hadn't been brave enough to mention before. “I keep walking on eggshells, waiting for the moment everyone is gonna leave.” 

“I don't see any of us leaving, you're our emotional support jerk after all, Langdon.” McKay retorted gently. “Your kids love you. That much I can tell you because I've seen my own son grow up and continue to love me as much as he did on his first day on Earth.”

Frank shook his head, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Between rehab and working with Abby so she'll trust me enough to be around the kids again, I haven't seen my kids in almost four months. Every time I have to hang up with them because they have to go to sleep or they're having dinner or whatever, it feels as if someone is taking my heart off my fucking chest.” 

“Have you talked to anyone about this?” McKay asked softly.

Frank shook his head, rubbing a hand against his eyes impatiently. “Mel has already done so much and she has so much on her plate, I couldn't put her through anything else. I still don't understand why she sticks around.” 

“In the moment you're in, it's very difficult to find empathy for yourself. That doesn't mean you can't come across people who will have enough for the two of you.” McKay shrugged when Frank looked at her almost with desperation. “It won't make any fucking sense maybe for a long time. But sometimes people love us, enough to stay even when we would have walked out on ourselves.”

Frank shook his head slightly, taking a careful sip from her mug and wincing as he took notice of its lukewarm temperature. After a moment of hesitation, he took another sip. “I almost didn't come today.” 

“I can imagine. A white, hegemonic boy like you who used to be the golden boy of the ED? Have you even faced scrutiny before today?”

Frank barked out a surprised laugh. “Gee, Cassie, tell us what you think!” 

McKay laughed. “Seriously, Langdon, it takes bravery to be here. It has to be fucking hard to be back but, as someone who’s walked the same road, I believe you made the right choice coming back.” 

“Yeah? Wanna bet how long it takes me to fuck everything up again?” 

“Langdon, you fucked up before. That's in the past; you cannot change it. The past is useful to be remembered, so we don't walk the same road again.” McKay paused to lean forward in her seat, her blue eyes searching for his. “Everyday, you are making the choice to build your life back. That's a choice you're making now. Actively. Constantly. On all accounts. No one else is making that choice for you, you are. Be fucking proud of that.” 

Frank blinked. Slowly, despite himself, his lips turned upwards into a bashful smile. “Any tips?” 

“Walk with your head held high. Go to your meetings. Take everyday at a time. Hold yourself with the empathy you wish on others.” McKay paused to smirk. “Cherish those who love you, especially if they are resident angels who seem as if they're iluminated by a fucking halo.” 

Chapter Text

“Wait, I'm being moved upstairs? I thought I would have to wait forever.” 

“It really doesn't happen very often, but we actually got one free bed upstairs and we thought you'd like the rest before your mom comes.” Mel chuckled as she turned from the computer by the edge of the room to raise an eyebrow in Gen's direction. “Would you rather stay here?” 

“I mean, you and Kate and Dr. Langdon are here and I was having fun with you.” Gen admitted with a shameless smile. “But I will say the idea of taking a nap without all of the ED noise and chaos sounds good.” 

“I'm glad you're feeling better, Gen. We're gonna want you to stay in the hospital for a few days until the fluid in your lung is gone and your body recovers from the infection. Of course, we're gonna get a few doctors who are more specialized in this kind of pneumonia into your case, so we can come up with the best treatment plan.” 

Gen nodded, her smile bleeding out as she fidgeted with the sleeves of her gown self consciously. “I feel… I'm nervous about knowing I'm getting help. Is that weird?” 

Mel swallowed the urge to burst into tears, sitting beside Gen after a moment. “I don't think so. When you're used to shouldering everything alone, trusting in someone else to help you and to actually feel that help can be a very powerful thing. It is something good, but it is a very emotional thing.” 

Gen interlinked her hands. “I have the feeling you're speaking from experience?” 

Mel stiffened at that. Because she was speaking from experience. Because it was still new. And because, to her, still, having someone help merely due to the fact she was deserving of care and appreciation and love was still a very emotional thing.

“We live in a really tough world, and it is a world that wants us to be alone, to isolate ourselves. We all deserve a community, and we all deserve to find happiness and safety and companionship,” Mel finally replied. “You have it, Gen. I promise you have it, even if it doesn't seem like it.” 

Gen's shoulders relaxed, as if Mel's words were all the validation she needed. “You're a really good doctor, Dr. King.” 

Mel opened her mouth to reply, but she was cut off by Perlah and Kate, who walked into the room bearing excited smiles and discharge papers from the ED.

“Ready to go, dear?” Perlah began, heading for the IV connected to Gen's arm.

“So, since you mom isn't here yet, I'll be signing the discharge papers to the ED and the papers admitting you to the ward upstairs,” Kate explained. “Of course, this is temporary. Once your mom comes in, I'll explain everything to her and have her sign all of this.” 

“Thank you,” Gen smiled brightly, her gaze flickering nervously between Mel and Kate. “Do you… is this the last time I'll see you?” 

Kate smiled reassuringly. “Oh no, I'll be with you throughout your stay here.” 

Mel blushed, honoured, as always when a patient showed an attachment to her. “And I'll visit you once my shift is done.” 

The rest of the ordeal was fairly quick, almost too quick, as it tended to happen in these cases. And it almost broke her heart, everytime, because these kind of patients… she remembered them almost as much as the patients she lost.

These kind of patients, the patients in which she could see the help she'd been able to provide oh so clearly, these were the patients Mel remembered most fondly, because they showed her the power she had as a doctor, and the satisfaction whenever she used that power correctly.

If the patients she lost haunted her, the patients she helped the most made her feel undefeatable.

And what a fucking amazing feeling that was. 

“You were great with her.” 

Mel startled slightly on her spot, watching Gen be wheeled away by Perlah and Kate. Her head snapped behind her, only relaxing when she realized it was only Dana. “You think so?” 

“One of the worst parts of our job is that our resources are limited,” Dana replied. She stood beside Mel, her arms crossed before her chest. “The space you gave her today - treatment aside -, it changed her life, kid.” 

Mel shrugged. “It was a team effort. Frank and Kate were also amazing.” 

Dana raised an eyebrow in her direction, nodding as if she had expected that answer. “Speaking of which, do you think I can run something by you?” 

Mel stiffened, Dana's tone alerting her of the subject. Or maybe, the fact that everyone had seemed to be able to talk about one thing all day alerting her. 

Still, this was Dana. Mel nodded slowly. “Absolutely.” 

“How are you doing?” Dana began, sighing when Mel looked blankly at her. “With Langdon being back, I mean.” 

“Oh. I'm okay,” Mel replied, smiling as confidently as she could manage, even as she felt her patience growing thin. “I really missed him when he wasn't here, you know? I really missed the team we made.” 

“It was a wonderful thing,” Dana mused in agreement. “I've seen a connection like that only a few times in my life. You are very lucky.” 

Mel relaxed at that. It had only taken her a few hours to understand that people were automatically looking at her - when it came to her relationship with Frank - as some sort of victim. As if she needed protection. As if she hadn't chosen to build a bond with him. 

As if he wasn't the person who understood her the most, apart from her sister.

She should have known she wouldn't have to explain anything to Dana.

Dana knew everything, after all. 

Dana was trusting.

Dana knew what everyone could and couldn't handle.

“I never experienced it, either.” Mel admitted after a second. Her gaze dropped to the floor, her hands buried in her hoodie's pockets. “I think Frank and I have very similar responsibilities? So, yes, I guess we work well here… but I think it's also because we understand each other in a way nobody else bothers to understand us.” 

“I know you have been getting a lot of comments today,” Dana interjected softly, telegraphing her movements as she wrapped an arm around the younger woman's shoulder. She his a victorious smile when Mel didn't flinch. “It all comes from a good place, because we all love you and think you're our very own Princess Diana, so we don't want you to get hurt but… but I understand it must have been a lot. I'm very sorry about that, dear.” 

Mel shrugged. “I think it's unfair. For both of us.” 

Dana cocked her head, intrigued. “How so?” 

“I was very young when I became Becca's primary caretaker, you know that. And the thing is, no one has ever wondered how I was doing. I took care of Becca, I put myself through med school and I went through everything I had to go through and it was fine, because I love my sister and this is the life we got and, honestly, we deserve to be as happy as possible for the rest of our time. Everyone thinks I can't handle things, that I need my life to be easy, when I've dealt with nothing but complicated stuff my entire life.” Mel took a deep breath, taking a second slower breath when Dana squeezed her shoulder.

“And Frank?” Dana prompted softly.

“Frank was the first one who asked me whether I was okay in a long time. He was the first one in a long time that saw I could use the company, that I could use the support, and he gave it without any hesitation or conditions. Frank, the man you all knew for years, the man that's still the same, even after everything that he went through. Yes, what he did was fucked up. It was really fucked up. He knows that, more than anyone. He's making amends, he's working every fucking day to be a better man, to not repeat the mistakes he made. He's a drug addict, but he’s so much more and I'm so tired of people looking at him and only seeing his mistakes!” 

Dana blinked, speechless.

Mel frowned, her cheeks growing red.

Finally, Dana whistled lowly. “Damn kid. You know, if the physician career doesn't work out, you have a good shot of becoming one hell of a lawyer.” 

Mel stammered nervously. “I'm so sorry, Dana, I-,” 

“Mel, please.” Dana chuckled. “That had to be the best speech I've heard in recent memory. I actually agree with you.” 

Mel merely looked at her with wide eyes, her cheeks still blushed. Dana smirked. She remembered being so protective of a man once. 

Ten months later, that man had become her husband.

“I don't care that I've known Langdon for longer, you're still my favourite. That being said, I want his return to work to be as seamless as possible, and I want your shifts here to be as devoid of drama as we possibly can.” Dana retracted her arm from Mel's shoulder, squeezing her hand before letting go. “I'll make sure you two are left in peace. Or, as much as my title of charge nurse allows me.” 

Dana began to walk away, only stopping when Mel called her softly.

“Frank and I,” Mel gulped nervously. “We're just friends. You know that, right?” 

Dana couldn't stop herself from smirking openly.

“I know that, dear. If you ever want that to become something else, though, I think you'll find something beautiful waiting for you on the other side.” 

oOo

Back at the nurses’ station Javadi was watching Mateo walk from one end of the floor to the other, her gaze unmistakably loving, her smile bright.

Beside her, Santos looked up from her computer for a second, watching the scene unfolding before her with a snort. “Javadi, this is ridiculous.” 

Javadi jolted in her seat, her hand automatically going for the protein bar she kept in her pocket. “What did I do?” 

“We're three independent, brilliant, hot as fuck women. How are we still single?” Santos retorted dryly, her faze back on her screen.

Leaning against the wooden counter before them, her gaze on a chart, Mohan shrugged calmly. “Is it confirmed the three of us want a relationship then?” 

After a moment of silence, Mohan looked up, her expression puzzled.

Javadi was looking at her as if she'd grown a third head. 

Santos seemed almost disappointed.

Mohan raised her hands in surrender. “Okay, then. Confirmed it is. Maybe it isn't about us, it's about the people we're choosing to focus our interest in.” 

Santos frowned before looking around them carefully. Once confirming no one was eavesdropping, she leaned closer to her friend. “You're telling me nothing has happened between you and Abbot?” 

Mohan blushed, lowering her gaze before she too leaned forward. “We've been texting and talking over the phone, I guess? We haven't had much time to actually hang out, though.” 

“You think he wants to?” 

Mohan grimaced sadly before shrugging. “I think he's scared. To be honest, so am I. This whole thing, I- he doesn't seem like the type of guy who would go for something casual. And honestly, I'm kind of tired of that myself.” 

Santos focused her gaze back on her computer. She typed a few more sentences of her differential for her latest patient - a STEMI she had done with Collins and Javadi -, before smirking at Javadi. “At least you're getting to know each other. Unlike Javadi and Mr. Hot-And-Cold.” 

Javadi paused mid bite to huff in offense. “Uncalled for!” 

“I wouldn't have said it like that but I agree, Victoria. If Mateo doesn't want to date someone from work, that's fine.” Mohan went back to her chart. “He doesn't get to put your hopes up, though. You deserve someone who's clear about what they want, so he better make up his mind and soon.” 

Javadi smiled despite herself. “Or what, you two and Mel are going to defend my honour?” 

Santos snorted. “The lesbian, the bisexual and the ace defending someone from a man. Can we officially call our group the Alphabet Mafia?” 

Mohan's lips tilted into a smile. “Plus Victoria.” 

“Aka the token straight,” Javadi chortled despite herself. What an honour.” 

Mohan giggled with her before straightening. “You know what? We should have a competition. All of us have our eyes set on someone, whoever makes things official or puts an end to it first wins. What do we think?” 

“Wait,” Javadi gasped in delight before turning towards Santos. “You and García? Again?” 

Santos stiffened at that, her gaze moving to her right before she knew what she was doing. Ever since she'd sat in an attempt to catch up with her paperwork, she’d done her best to ignore her surroundings but she should have known, she really should have known it would be in vain.

Sometimes, people happened to us. 

And when people happened to Santos, she found it was very, very fucking hard to ignore them. 

So, Santos looked to her right. To Robby and Collins, who were talking to Kate about a case, if their serious expressions were to be trusted. But then, Collins said something and ssmi's face brightened with a beautiful smile.

From her seat, Santos found herself smiling as well, her gaze following her every movement. 

And just beside her, Javadi followed the entire scene with barely held glee. “But I'm the pathetic one?” 

Santos cursed under her breath, immediately going back to work. “Fuck off, nepo baby.” 

“She's bringing her best insulting name-calling game,” Javadi giggled. She wiggled her eyebrows in Mohan's direction. “I think it's serious.” 

Mohan snorted. “Okay, so we all have our eyes set on someone. Should we let Mel into the bet as well?” 

Santos and Javadi opened their mouths to voice their opinion, just in time for Mel and Langdon to reach the opposite side of the nurse station. 

“Hey, I heard Gen was admitted upstairs?” Langdon began as he grabbed a tablet from the desk. 

“Yeah, Perlah got her settled upstairs a little while ago.” Mel replied, going for a pair of gloves herself. “I told her I would visit once our shift is over.” 

“Let's go together, I want to make sure she's settled before we go home.” Frank's gaze flickered in Mel's direction. “Need a ride home?” 

Mel blinked at him. “I have to pick up Becca.” 

“So?” 

“So, the center is on the opposite side of town to your house. I don't want you to spend more time out than you need.” 

Frank rolled his eyes. “So, you're saying I would spend more time with two of my three favorite girls before I go home. Oh, the horror. Can you please let me be your driver for the evening?” 

Mel smiled, shaking her head slowly. “Fine. If Becca comes in singing Frozen's songs over and over again, though, remember you asked to spend time with us.” 

Frank groaned. “Mel, come on, you told me you were gonna get her to the good side!” 

“Since when is Tangled the good side in comparison to Frozen?” 

With that, Mel and Frank retreated the station, headed for their next patients even as they continued to argue. Unknown to them, the three doctors by Central watched them go with various degrees of emotions.

“Fucking hell, talk about fell first and harder.” Santos scoffed. “Those two are hopeless.” 

Beside her, Javadi sighed dreamily. “I'm sorry, but I ship it. I give them two months before one of them declares their feelings.” 

Mohan shook her head with a smile. “I'm giving them a little more time. They'll get together after Langdon's first year sober.” 

“They are declaring their feelings sometime in the next month but will only start to date after Langdon’s first year sober,” Santos interjected, raising her hands in defense when both women looked at her. “What!? It totally can happen.” 

Mohan smirks. “Losers buy the winner dinner?” 

Santos nodded. “Sure. I'm going to need money to woo Kate and make her fall in love with me.” 

Javadi widened her eyes, a new idea crossing her mind. “You think Mateo would say yes to dinner?” 

“You don't need our money to take that boy out, though, nepo baby.” 

“Uncalled for” 

Chapter Text

“Are Javadi and Whitaker still helping with Chairs?” 

Dana shook her head without taking her gaze off the board. “They just came back. Whitaker is with King in Central 12 dealing with a head lac. Mohan grabbed Santos and Javadi to deal with the incoming STEMI.” 

Robby sighed heavily, taking a sip from the plastic cup he was holding - one would think it was some overpriced, delicious coffee from the shop by the corner with the way he was carefully cradling the cup but no, it was actually the burned stuff from the doctors’ lounge - before sitting by his station and putting on his glasses. “Great, I want to talk to Mohan and King whenever they have a free minute, can you send them my way?” 

“Consider it done, captain. Anything else?” 

Robby sighed again, unimpressed by Dana's knowing glance as she finally looked in his direction. “You are not subtle.” 

Dana smirked. “Never claimed to be.” 

Robby nodded slowly, his lips reluctantly lifting in amusement. “How is he doing?” 

Dana hesitated. “Fine.” 

Robby straightened in alarm, his gaze quickly drifting across the ED. “Dana, what-.”

“Hey, Cap.” Dana interjected before Robby could go into full panic. “I wouldn't say he's fine if I didn't truly believe it. He's talking to the family of his OD patient right now.” 

Robby ran a hand down his face. “I should have grabbed that case myself. Fuck, what a first day back, huh?” 

“Do you actually think he would have forgiven you if you took that case from him?” Dana perched herself on the corner of Robby's station. “You allowed him to come back, Robby, give the kid a chance.” 

“What if it was too much though?” Robby leaned back against his seat, tilting his face towards the ceiling as he closed his eyes with the exhaustion of a man who had weathered thousands of battles. Which, truthfully, that's exactly who Robby was. “What if he can't deal with the burden of such a case? Before, he would tell me everything or at least, I thought he did. I don't see him telling me anything now, do you?” 

Dana crossed her arms. “How honest do you want me to be?” 

Robby snorted. “It depends. How scared should I be?” 

“Michael.” 

Robby immediately straightened, taking off his glasses as if the blurriness would make Dana's words hit him less. 

“He lost your trust that day. What he did was fucked up, inexcusable… and I truly think none of us will ever understand how shifty he must be feeling about it.” Dana's voice softened when Robby flinched slightly. “But you lost his trust that day as well. You didn't mean to react like that but you were his mentor, and he left that day feeling absolutely alone. What's going on now, between you two? I would say both of you are responsible for that.” 

Robby chuckled humorlessly, a poor attempt of dislodging his throat from the ball of emotion that had settled in it. “I didn't see it. Any of the signs. He was my best resident, the one that worked closest to me, and a fucking intern saw what I couldn't.” 

Dana rested a hand on his forearm. Her gaze shared his grief. “None of us did, Robby. You aren't alone there.” 

“But I was the one that threw him out. Dana… shit, you should have seen his face. He was fucking terrified, he couldn't even articulate his words and I didn't offer him any help, I didn't even want to listen, I just wanted him out of my face.” 

“That day was absolutely shit. We were all put to a goddamn test and we barely made it through.” Dana shook her head with a snort. “Everything we did, everything that happened that day, it counted. He lied. You threw him out. You told him he needed help, he told you the same thing. He was scared. So were you.”

Robby raised an eyebrow. “Your point?” 

Dana mirrored his expression. “Did it never cross your mind that you two might be more similar than you thought?” 

“Dana-.” 

“Oh, it's like being in a fucking romcom,” Dana groaned before leaning her face closer to Robby so she could whisper, “You let this job fuck you up. He did the same. That day, you both hit rock bottom. Your wounds are similar, you two know it and you two used that knowledge to hurt one another because you thought, stupidly, that the other didn't feel your pain. You both want to make things right. You are both here, dancing around one another and hoping for a second chance to present itself.” 

“I did not ask for the psych analysis. I already pay someone for that.” 

“You know what's different? You both lost a partner to this job. Only one of you still regrets that.” Dana raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Am I wrong, doctor?” 

Robby glared at Dana.

Dana glared right back.

At last, Robby crossed his arms defensively. “What, you know what's my… our second chance then?” 

“Which of your senior residents are referring to?” 

“Langdon,” Robby hissed, mostly in panic they would be heard. 

“You told me that after that fucking shift, you realized you had much to learn from your residents. You gave Collins and McKay the job of coming up with improvements on the protocols related to cases where violence against women occurs. You said you had much to learn from Mel and Samira. Maybe, there's something you can learn from Frank as well.” 

Robby frowned. “I don't know, I don't want him to think I only associate him with his drug addiction now.” 

If Dana rolled her eyes any harder, they would have gotten stuck at the back of her head. “I meant his chronic pain, you absolutely imbecile. I meant the empathy with which we treat patients with chronic pain, and the improvements we could do in protocol.” 

Robby gaped at Dana. “You're a genius.” 

“I know I am.” Dana patted his shoulder before straightening with a sigh. “God forbid you ever have to work without me, you'd be a fucking mess before the first day is even over.” 

oOo

“So, he asked for the three of us?” Frank asked as he followed Samira and Mel. “By name?”

“Don't be frightened,” Mel looked behind her to shoot him a reassuring smile. “We'll protect you.”

Samira looked between the two with a smirk. “You can hold our hands if you want to.” 

Frank rolled his eyes, not even bothering to negate the thrill he got at the idea of holding Mel's hand. “Cheers, Mohan, you are quite the friend.” 

 “It's good that we're meeting by the lockers. If you piss yourself, you'll have a change of clothes right there.” 

“Fuck off,” Frank called pleasantly, his eyes widening as he took in Mohan's words. “Wait, the lockers? Why the fucking lockers?” 

Mel turned to him with concern, his panicked tone alerting her of an issue. Beside her, Mohan opened her mouth to reply but, before any of them could utter any words, they were at the lockers and no longer on their own.

“Mohan, King, Langdon.” Robby nodded, his hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie. “Excellent, I wanted to talk to the three of you before we do the afternoon rounds.” 

“Everything okay, boss?” Samira asked after a moment, burying her hands in the pockets of her pants as Mel and Frank stood on either side of her.

“Absolutely, Dr. Mohan. I wanted to discuss a possible project with the three of you, see if that's something you'd be interested in taking up.” When all three of them nodded - Mohan confidently, King eagerly and Langdon anxiously -, Robby nodded as well. “This last few months, and after what happened on the day of the shooting, I've been watching all of your work, and implementing different reviews of protocol.” 

Mel raised her eyebrows. “Like the one Collins and McKay presented to you?” 

Robby nodded, his gaze flickering in Langdon's direction after a moment. “I asked Dr. Collins and Dr. McKay to review the protocols we currently have for cases related to violence against women, as well as this hospital’s statistics when it comes to the amount of patients we receive, and the recommendations they have for improvement.” 

Frank already knew all of that from Mel. He wasn't about to admit that, not now that Robby was finally talking to him somewhat decently. 

Instead, he nodded with what he hoped was an even expression. “That’s very clever, boss.” 

“What can we do?” Mohan questioned in return.

“Something I think our ED is lacking - as well as the US Healthcare system but I digress - is proper understanding, patience and empathy when it comes to patients who don't communicate in a way similar to ours, patients who suffer from pain and whose pain affects their entire lives. Patients who come into our ED already defensive, because other hospitals have given them a worse treatment than they deserve because of who they are or what they look like.” Robby spoke calmly, confidently, but his gaze shifted between the three of them, gagging their reactions as carefully as he could.

Samira exchanged a glance with Mel before frowning at Robby. “Won't this slow our work, though?” 

“Maybe at first.” Robby admitted. “I am confident we can find a way to give better care to our patients while also ensuring swift treatment and turnover of beds. That being said, I… I realize that because of the privilege I hold in this society, there are some factors and issues I haven't taken into account when it comes to patient care. As Chief of our department, I have a platform to send the right message, therefore, I have the responsibility to do that to the best of my abilities. That starts by listening to my residents and learning from them.” 

“So,” Mel frowned, distractedly pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “What do you need us to do exactly?” 

“Take a look at our protocols. Watch how our doctors treat those patients. Make your recommendations on how we should improve our treatment. Be as thorough as possible.” Robby smiled. “If that's a project you think you could take up, I will be eagerly awaiting the results of your investigation.” 

Frank gulped, his hands clammy the more he heard Robby speak. He crossed his arms before his chest, trying in vain not to think of the last moment he and Robby had shared next to those lockers.

In that moment, he had truly felt he had lost his mentor and the person he most looked up to. More than being fired, that moment had been the rupture of a relationship he valued highly, it had been the explosion of a world he knew and was comfortable in. 

From then on? The fucking Apocalypse.

Or so he thought, because with Robby's offer, all he could see was a bridge, a white flag, a fucking reprieve from the war between him and Robby, and the war waging within him.

“You know I've been researching the statistics related to racial disparity in the medical system,” Samira practically gushed. “I'll be more than happy to use that in a more practical sense and come up with any necessary recommendations, Dr. Robby.” 

“I'll get to work on it as well,” Mel intervened with a smile, before shrugging sheepishly. “While I don't mind treating the neurodivergent patients we get in the ED, it'll be nice to help our team learn how to treat them as best as possible.” 

After a moment, all three looked at Frank.

Frank gulped. 

“You want our recommendations? All three of us?” 

Robby nodded slowly, confidently, as faithfully as he could as a man who had helped burn a bridge and was now wanting to build it again. “All three of you, Frank.” 

Frank nodded, taking a deep breath as he felt his heart growing three sizes with hope. 

Last time, those lockers had been the setting of a breakup.

As it turned out, they were a perfect setting for the beginning of a mended relationship between two haunted souls with very similar wounds.

There's something about a full-circle moment that never ceases to be beautifully healing, this author reckons.

Finally, Frank smirked.

“Where do I sign, boss?” 

Chapter Text

“How did it go with Kiara?” 

Harry shrugged into his lap, his posture heartbreakingly sad. He had yet to manage looking his doctor in the eye. “Fine.” 

Langdon perched himself slowly on a stool by Harry's bed, his movements small and measured as to not disturb the moment. Once the initial shock had passed, his patient had assumed a posture full of tension, fear and uncertainty. His posture was that of a deer under headlights, absolutely spooked, waiting for the most minimum sign to run.

Langdon's heart fucking shattered at the sight.

“I can't imagine how uncomfortable talking to someone must be, especially someone you haven't seen before today,” Langdon took a deep breath, forcing his voice to remain soft and calm. “Kiara is amazing, I promise. Our entire team is amazing, actually. And we're all here to help if you'll let us.” 

Harry rubbed his knuckles against his reddened eyes, his brows furrowed as if he was mentally trying to solve a major problem. 

It reminded Langdon of Tanner, of the way he would rub his eyes with his little, chubby hands when he was sleepy, frowning because the last thing he wanted to do was go to sleep, but deep inside knew he was tired and he wanted to have his daddy tuck him in and read him a story. 

Langdon intertwined his hands on his lap, clenching them in an attempt to relieve his stress.

“Harry,” Langdon tried again, his voice even softer than before. “Whatever happened, I want you to know we aren't here to judge or offer an opinion on your life. We are only here to help and to help figure out which resources are out there for you. If you want to talk, I promise we are willing to listen and figure something out.” 

Harry dug his nails into his cuticles, biting his lip in a conflicted manner. His nails were completely bitten.

Langdon barely dared to breathe, allowing Harry as much as he wanted to process, to think, to figure out an answer. 

“I-,” Harry finally whispered, his voice breaking around that small word. He didn't look up, but Langdon noticed a tear falling onto the hospital blanket. “I don't think I have the energy to explain.” 

Langdon leaned forward slowly. “Explain what?” 

Harry slowly looked up. His eyes were red. “Explain how tired I am.” 

Langdon nodded slowly, his heart squeezing painfully. He smiled in reassurance as he slowly shook his head. “I don't think you have to do it alone, Harry, or that you have to rush yourself. You can take your time. We'll still be here when you're ready.” 

Harry scoffed, his head tilting sideways. “With all due respect, Dr. Langdon, you don't know me or my story. I find it hard to believe a group of strangers would want to help that much.” 

Langdon stiffened at that, the words impacting him much more than he expected. 

Because he did know of his story.

Because he did say a version of those words four months before.

Because he was so fucking close to losing everything and, even then, even now, he was busy rebuilding everything from the ground. 

“Dr. Langdon,” Harry rushed to stutter in an apologetic manner, growing silent when Langdon shook his head.

“You're right, Harry. I think no one can know exactly what you're feeling, or its extent.” Langdon took a deep breath, preparing himself. To open up, to be vulnerable, to jump in help and pray he won't shatter against the ground. “That doesn't mean we don't want to help or that we can't. And, I think, I do know about what you're going through. To some extent.” 

Harry's eyes grew impossibly wide. His voice, again, a whisper. “You do?”

Frank's gaze remained on his patient, his gaze unseeing as he thought, as he reminisced.

Of the late nights at the rehab center. Of the late night fantasies of going to sleep and never waking up. Of how he wanted to stop his own pain and the others. Of feeling alone, so so alone, and being fucking terrified of it. Of how he wanted everything to stop, of how he wanted nothing but to catch his breath for one fucking moment in which nothing happened but him, breathing, resting, catching the fuck up to his new reality.

Of how he was so afraid he would never get such a moment. 

One second had passed, one of the hardest seconds in Frank Langdon’s life.

At the end of such a second, he nodded. “I do.” 

“But,” Harry shook his head, his gaze drifting from the door, to the monitor by the edge of the room, to Langdon and back again. He dug his bitten nails into his cuticles again. “You're here, and a doctor, how-.” 

“Thank you for the vote of confidence, Harry.” Langdon chuckled despite himself. He never ceased to be amused by people believing doctors had their shit together simply because they saved lives for a living. “This is actually my first day back in four months.” 

“Oh,” Harry gulped. His posture slowly relaxed, his gaze slowly returning to Langdon and staying there. “That’s… that's brave, Dr. Langdon.” 

Langdon smiled, his chest growing warm. He really hoped one day he would believe it as well. “Thank you, Harry.” 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Of course.” 

“How-,” Harry shook his head rapidly as tears rolled down his cheeks. His voice quivered in heartbreak. “How did you-?” 

For the first time in his career, Langdon allowed himself to show his sadness as he scooted closer to Harry's bed. He extended a hand in silent invitation, smiling when Harry gripped it as if it was a lifeline. With the other, Langdon wiped his tears. “There are good and bad days, you know that. And, on the bad days, I… I try to remember everything I accomplished already. Every battle I've won, every single good thing I've done for myself and others, everything I would be easily proud of on a good day.” 

“And, I remember everything I want to do on the good days. The plans that usually make me excited, the ideas or activities that make me want to get out of bed those days,” Langdon continued, his voice wavering slightly. “In my case, that's spending time with my kids and watching them grow up while I teach them as best as I can. And like, finish my residency and spend time with my friends and see if I have a chance of building a life with the woman I love. On good days, I want to do those things. I want that life so, so much.” 

Langdon's gaze drifted towards the door, his gaze widening when he noticed Robby looking right at him from the other side of the door. 

For the first time in four months, he didn't stiffen under his gaze. He relaxed. 

Langdon did the third step again, even if it wasn't a bad day. He thought of Robby's counsel, Abby's friendship, McKay's understanding. He thought of his kids' bright smiles, of their melodic laughter, of the warmth that came with their hugs. He thought of Dana, Santos and Mel, all three of them having given him a helping hand in different ways, with or without his approval.

“And I make a list of every person I have, and every person who has my back. And, every single time, I'm so surprised by how long that list is.” Langdon and Harry laughed together for a moment, his hands still joined in a tight vice. “That’s the plan I made with my sponsor and my therapist, at least. Every plan looks different, though, and it's purely designed to give you the tools you need.” 

Harry took a deep breath, his voice growing small as his shoulders deflated. “I don't know how to start. It all, it all… it seems so fucking big- sorry, Dr. Langdon, I shouldn't have said that.”

“It's okay,” Langdon withheld a smirk, perfectly aware of how many times he had cursed internally since his shift began. “You start one step at a time, Harry. No one is rushing you, here, but I think one of the first steps would have to be speaking with our psychiatrists. They are amazing, and they can help you figure out the next steps.” 

Harry slowly nodded. “Okay. Okay, I'll talk to them.” 

Langdon was so ready to get out of work, into bed, and cry himself to sleep. What a fucking first day. “Okay, Harry. I'll call for them, alright?”

“Wait! Will you stay with me while I talk to them?” 

Langdon turned back to Harry slowly, his eyebrows raised. “Of course, Harry. Would you like me to get your sister too?” 

Harry stiffened. “She’s still here?” 

“She is,” Langdon confirmed. He went to the monitor by the edge of the room and grabbed his tablet so he would have something to do with his hands. “Harry, it's up to you who is or isn't with you at this time. Having people who love you around you can be very good, though, so I want you to think about it.” 

“...I don't want her to judge me.” 

Langdon could have cried. It was like looking at himself in a mirror. “Do you think she would?” 

Harry stared at Langdon.

And Langdon waited patiently.

At last, Harry's shoulders relaxed again. “Do you think you could get her?” 

Langdon smiled as he turned to the door. “My pleasure.” 

As he left, he ran straight into Robby, who had given up on all pretenses of not watching his resident. “Everything good there?” 

Langdon straightened, his smile proud. “I think it will be. Now excuse me, I have to page psych and get the patient’s sister.” 

Robby watched him go almost with awe, only distractedly acknowledging Dana as she stood beside him. “What do you got for me?” 

“He's here,” Dana replied. She then nodded in Langdon's direction. “Tell me again, who said he could deal with it?” 

Robby sighed, hanging his head downwards. “You did.” 

“Come again?” 

“Don't push it.” 

“Don't tell me what to do, kid.” 

oOo

Samira Mohan was a scientist, through and through.

Even before her dad died, she had learned that if there was something she could expect from life, it was that nothing was expected. It was that changes, plot twists, new characters came when she least expected them. Things happened for a reason, and they also happened for shock value.

Because she's a scientist, she's always fucking hated that aspect of life.

So, ever since she was a little girl and she went through the first whiffs of change, the first losses, the first death, she decided to find calm in the midst of chaos. If her life wouldn't give it to her, if she was supposed to accept that things would just happen without her approval, with almost never giving her time to notice the symptom, go through a differential and come up with a diagnosis and course of treatment before everything went to shit…

If life wouldn't allow her that blessing, she would allow it for herself.

She was Samira fucking Mohan. 

And her life was her own.

So, control. Routines. Being in charge of her life. She had many plans and lists made up for every aspect of her life, of course.

One of the things she had installed in her routine ever since she began her residency at PTMC was making her way to Central five minutes before everyone else gathered for afternoon shifts. That gave her time to revise her current cases, make any additional notes she needed for when it was her time to present, and watch her peers as they also made their way to Central.

When she made her way to Central that day, she did it trusting that the only change in her day was that Frank Langdon had returned to them.

And then, she raised her gaze from her tablet. 

And locked eyes with Jack Abbot from across the nurses’ station.

“Shit, this is new.” McKay whistled lowly as she slowly shook her head. She stood next to Mohan with a sufficient smirk decorating her lips. “I think the last time I worked with both Abbot and Robby was Pittfest.” 

“Why is he here?” Mohan asked in return, her voice dropping to a whisper. She left her tablet on an empty station, burying her hands in her scrub pockets to inadvertently wipe them against the fabric. She turned towards McKay. “You think we have another MCI?” 

“They didn't call any codes,” McKay replied with more confidence than Mohan thought the situation guaranteed. She stopped watching Abbot and Robby as they talked to smirk in Mohan's direction. “What, he didn't tell you?” 

“Who didn't tell who what?” Collins asked as she suddenly joined the duo, Langdon in tow. 

“Abbot is here,” McKay informed smugly before Mohan could open her mouth. 

“Ah,” Collins unsuccessfully covered her smile with a hand. “That’s… something alright.” 

“Oh, fuck off.” Mohan huffed, laughing despite herself. “This has nothing to do with me. C’mon, Langdon, back me up.” 

“She is right.” 

“Thank you!”

“Maybe this has everything to do with Abbot and how much he missed working with his favourite resident.” 

“I hate you all so much,” Mohan grumbled as she covered her face with her hands while the other three giggled to themselves, attempting to calm down when Princess walked past them with an inquisitive glance. 

“Let's change the topic before we feed any rumors,” Collins finally said, nodding with a wink when Mohan shot her a grateful smile. “You think the ducklings have earned a nickname from Abbot?” 

McKay watched as Santos and Whittaker walked together towards the nurses station, Javadi close behind them. “Only King, I believe. She's the most senior of them, after all.” 

Langdon straightened at that. “And that is?” 

“You're pathetic,” Collins informed him pleasantly before sighing. “Scientist Barbie.” 

“If he ever changes mine, I'll fucking cry myself to sleep, I swear to god.” McKay crossed her arms before her chest. “I love being Badass Red.” 

“That one is so cool,” Collins agreed before sighing. “I still don't know how I feel about being Queen of the ED.” 

“...and who is your King exactly?” 

“Fuck you, Langdon.” 

“Which one was yours?” Mohan asked, rolling her eyes when Mel finally approached their group from the opposite side, Langdon's gaze following her every step of the way. “Langdon.” 

“What?” 

“Your nickname.” 

Langdon tensed, his cheeks growing pink as he buried his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. “I don't remember.” 

McKay snorted, completely unimpressed. “Yes, you do.” 

Langdon let out the Sigh of the Century, pinching his nose with a hand as he looked down to his shoes. “... Pretty Boy Syndrome.” 

“What a fucking character,” McKay asserted with a cackle, tears streaming down her face as she laughed. 

“Mohan,” Collins interjected once the foursome had calmed down. “Did you get one yet?” 

Mohan hesitated, her heart clenching as butterflies fluttered in her stomach. “...And?” 

When Mohan hesitated, Langdon huffed impatiently. “Oh, please Mohan, you think you got it worse than ‘Pretty Boy Syndrome’?” 

“Okay, fine.” 

“...and?” 

“I hate you,” Mohan informed McKay with a bright smile before she too looked down towards her shoes. “I got mine during Pittfest. He calls me Nike, okay?” 

“...As in the sneakers?” 

“As in the Greek Goddess, Langdon, for fuck's sake.” Collins retaliated with a roll of eyes, smiling despite herself when Langdon raised his hands in surrender. 

“You know, Harrison is having a mythology hyperfixation at the moment and I've been learning a bit from listening to him,” McKay whispered after a moment. In the middle of the semicircle their team had assembled, Abbot and Robby seemed about ready to address them all. “In Greek mythology, Nike is the personification of victory in battle.” 

The foursome stayed silent for a moment as they processed her words. Mohan's gaze flickered towards Abbot almost unwillingly, her eyes brightening when she found him already looking at her. 

“Okay, that's hot.” Langdon finally announced, Collins and McKay nodding in agreement. “I ship it.” 

“Thank you for the vote, Dr. Langdon.” Mohan grumbled. “Want me to vote for you and a certain R2.” 

“Okay, everybody listen up!” Robby called before Langdon could reply. He took a few steps forward, making sure his gaze met everyone's as he looked around. “Before we get to rounds, I wanted to announce a change in our schedule. Starting today, Dr. Abbot will be working from 1 PM till 1 AM in order to aid the day shift and make a swifter shift change. From now on, you all report to him as well as to me. Any questions?” 

After everyone shook their heads, Robby looked at Abbot, who shrugged. “Let's begin then. How about we start with you, Dr. King?” 

As the group followed Mel and Robby, Abbot turned towards Mohan, an eyebrow raised in a silent question.

And in the silence, Mohan was finally able to process the change, to accept it, and to ask herself a question. 

Was she happy he was there?

The answer was simple, and it filled her heart with an emotion she didn't care to name, not just yet.

Mohan shot Abbot a smile in a silent answer. 

Was she happy he was there? 

Yes. Very much.

Chapter Text

Dana hated it, and she probably would never admit it - not even to Robby or Abbot - but the Driscoll incident had changed the way she looked at her job.

She had been a charge nurse for over 30 years, taking the crown in the same place she'd been born, in the same place she'd first gotten a sense of what she wanted to do with her life. 

When she was a baby, PTMC was the place where she drew her first breath.

When she was a teenager, PTMC was the place that first taught her what community meant, and what it felt to belong somewhere. 

And when she became an adult? When she became an adult, PTMC gave her the thrill of knowing what she wanted to do with her life, and of it being something she was really fucking good at.

Four months after Pittfest and the Shift Not Even Satan Could Have Crafted So Masterfully, Dana wasn't awakened with nightmares of the shooting.

No.

She was awakened with recollections of a completely broken Robby, a sight she hadn't seen since the pandemic.

She would jolt awake in bed, heart hammering in her chest, tears brimming in her eyes, echoes of Heather's broken sobs as she told her of her miscarriage echoing faintly in her ear.

Or she would struggle to fall asleep to begin with, Frank's terrified gaze as he asked for help she couldn't provide haunting her so much she dreaded closing her eyes and letting herself fall into oblivion.

Her dreams, her sleep, her nights, they were accosted by those three memories and countless others, all of them featuring the people she loved and cared for, all of them who had dealt with their own versions of a hellish turn of events, all of them who she had failed that day.

She loved to take care of people, after all. Not only had she been unable to do so that day, she'd seen three of her closest friends fall apart. She would never, ever, be able to forget that.

But her days…

Her days.

Oh, her days.

Her days were accosted as well. Not in a direct way, like her nights were, but in a subtle way.

Because if, at night, her memories crashed against her like a stampede…during the day they were much sneakier, and left her far more shaken.

Memories of curled fists.

Lips twisted into angry snarls.

‘Hard at work?’ 

Disrespect. Degradation.

‘I'll take my chances.’

Pain.

And this idea, that she would always be worthless. She would always be useless, because of a flaw that was much bigger than anything she could possibly attempt to fix.

A flaw that belonged to the way the medical system had been crafted.

A flaw that people somehow thought she could fix, just because she worked in that system.

Thirty years.

She had been a charge nurse for over thirty fucking years.

And yet, a man had changed the way she looked at it in a way not even a pandemic had been able to do.

Her gaze was even more attentive, her hearing more focused. She called for security much quicker than she did before, not even daring to risk having a repeat of that day - for her or any of her people.

She took care of people, after all. That's what she'd done her entire life and that was what she was good at. 

And, with the Driscoll incident, what she learned was that not everyone was her people. Even if she so wanted them to be.

And her therapist, she would say Dana was settling boundaries in the workplace, allowing herself to feel safer at work, while also knowing her team was safer.

Her therapist, she would say it was a tool Dana had all the liberty to use to feel comfortable and safe in a place she was only now relearning.

But Dana? Dana would say a white man had changed entirely the way she felt in her home.

Because of a white man, she took less risks, yes. She took care of herself in a way she hadn't been doing before, yes. But she also felt dubious, hesitant, apprehensive in a place she'd once only known loud confidence.

And she fucking hated it.

So.

How do we move on? 

How do we wake up the next day and manage to find the energy to fight? When there's no more energy left, how do we find it in ourselves to fight anyways?

This author reckons that depends on every person. Dana found that, in her case, she found her desire to fight back in therapy. In her husband's silent and protective support. In her daughter's pride for her mom. In how her granddaughter had asked her to be her show and tell for Career Day, and in how she'd talked about her as if she was some kind of superhero.

She found the energy to fight in the people that still needed her. In the people that deserved her fight.

Now, four months later, Dana's days were getting easier. She would finish her shifts - with all the drama that always somehow managed to find it's way to PTMC - and she would realize she’d managed to survive. She was okay, she was present, and she had survived.

Every night, as she walked out of the ED, she would take a deep breath, look up and lock eyes with her husband waiting in the parking lot, and smile. 

Every day was a little bit easier. 

And every day was as unexpected as the last.

“Robby, two incoming. Male in his forties with a GSW to his chest, female with deep lacerations and bruises in chest and stomach, sounds like a domestic violence case, kid daughter called 911. Both intubated in scene, first one 2 minutes out.” 

“Fuck,” Robby cursed before cracking his neck. He closed his eyes for a second, his eyelids crinkling. When he opened them again, he was firmly in Chief mode. “Okay, page Collins, Mohan and Santos to deal with the woman. I'll deal with the man with Langdon and Whitaker.” 

“Oh no, brother.” Abbot magically appeared beside Robby, reaching across his friend to grab a pair of gloves from the station. “I'll take that patient with Langdon and Whitaker. You take point on both cases, make sure no one out here is left without help.” 

Robby raised an eyebrow. “There's a reason you can't do that?” 

“I'm here for a reason, aren't I?” 

After a tensioned second, Robby sighed. “Fine. Let's get this show on the road, then.” 

Abbot nodded before turning around, heading towards the ambulance bay with purposeful strides, the rest of the team behind him. Dana watched him go with a slight smile, perfectly aware it was the last smile she would construct in a while. “You letting Rambo run free then?” 

“He does have a point. There's a reason why he’s here.” Robby cracked his neck again. “Social workers in the house?” 

“Kate was around here a few minutes ago. Or would you like to page Kiara?”

“No, get Kate. Let's get the new kid into testing waters.”

“Copy that, Cap.” After a moment of silence, also known as the calm before the storm, Dana reached across the station to rest a hand on Robby's shoulder. “You don't have to do this. You know that right?” 

Robby shook his head again. “Yes, I do.” 

Dana opened her mouth to reply but Robby was already walking away, exchanging a little wave with Kate as she approached Central, her grave expression a tell that she was already perfectly aware of the situation. 

So, Dana watched.

She watched as Robby directed Abbot, Langdon and Whittaker to Trauma 1, Abbot barking orders as Whittaker perched himself on top of the patient's chest, his CPR much better than when he started four months ago.

Collins, Mohan and Santos were right behind them as they rushed to Trauma 2, Mohan listening to the patient's breath sounds while Santos studied her pupils reaction to light and Collins carefully directed the gurney while shouting directions to Princess and Jesse, who were already inside the Trauma Room.

To Dana's left, Kate was perched before a little girl who couldn't be any older than five. She was wearing a white shirt and a pink tutu, her little feet cladded in purple ballerina shoes. Her blonde hair fell down her back in Princess curls, its tips coated with blood.

“Hi, Lily.” Kate was saying, careful not to touch the little girl unless she consented. Her voice was soft like a warm embrace after a cold day. “My name is Kate, I work in this hospital and I'm going to be staying with you for a little while, okay?” 

Lily nodded slowly. “I'm hungry.” 

Kate nodded in return, offering the little girl a small but friendly smile. Apart from them, Dana felt herself tearing up. “Let's get you something to eat, okay? Do you like sandwiches?” 

“PBJ?” 

Kate stood up, offering a hand to Lily. Her heart quivered when Lily slipped her little hand in hers with a tiny squeezed. “We can do that. Let's go this way, okay?” 

Dana watched them go, exchanging a glance with Kate before her focus returned to the Trauma Rooms before her.

She watched as García came into Trauma 1, making a quick consult before slipping into Trauma 2 with Robby. García looked at the FAST scan with a thunderous expression in her face before exchanging a look with Robby.

She watched as Abbot, Langdon and Whittaker managed to stable the patient in Trauma 1 enough so that he would be admitted to surgery.

She watched as none of them were particularly cheerful about it.

She watched as Collins, Mohan and Santos coded the patient in Trauma 2 for almost half an hour, their expressions slowly but surely crumbling from professional to desperate. 

She watched as finally, only Santos remained working, her hands pumping into the patient's chest, her eyes locked on the monitor.

And finally, finally, Dana watched as Collins watched as she opened her mouth, softly ordering Santos to stop.

Santos did, tears streaming down her face. 

Santos stopped, climbed down from the gurney, and looked at the clock. 

After a moment, Santos called time of death.

A lot of things had changed since the Driscoll incident. One of them was that there were some things, some things that Dana no longer had the stomach to watch.

So Dana didn't watch anymore. She hung her head and closed her eyes, bringing a hand to her chest. 

Not in prayer, because she was pretty sure no one was listening.

But in farewell, in respect for the mother lost, and the daughter waiting in the family room. 

oOo

“Hey, Santos.” 

Trinity didn't stop her power walk, nodding as she walked past Donahue and Kim, daring them to say anything about the tears streaming down her face. 

“Santos,” García repeated as she finally caught up to the younger woman. She grabbed her by the elbow, her voice low and concerned. “Trinity, stop. Take a fucking second and just breathe, will you?” 

Trinity straightened, affronted by the tone. Luckily, they were in a relatively vacant corridor on the way to the Family Room but honestly, Trinity was feeling so tense and ready to fight that she would have totally welcomed a crowd.

“What is it to you?” 

García frowned. “What?” 

“What is it to you?” Trinity repeated, her voice harsh and angry. “Why the fuck do you care? I'm trouble, remember?” 

García sighed. “Look, that came out wrong, I know, but-.” 

“But nothing,” Trinity spat. “You think I wanted all of that to happen on my first day? You think I wanted to notice what I noticed? I fucking didn't but it didn't matter, because I still saw what you all failed to see. And you were the one ally I had here. You flirted with me, you gave me your extension, you completely forgot the power imbalance here. But then, I come to you for help and I'm the problem?” 

“Trinity-.” 

“You don't have an idea of how much that hurt. You don't have an idea of how close that hit to home.” Trinity shrugged. “And I supposed you had no reason to know and you never owed me anything. So it doesn't matter at the end of the day. But I get to choose how close I want to be to the people here and you? I want you to stay the fuck away from me?” 

Without further ado, Trinity continue her march without looking back, her posture daring García to find out what would happen if she followed.

She couldn't help but be disappointed when she didn't. Trinity really wanted to fight somebody. 

Still, she managed to forget all about that encounter so that, when she finally reached the family room, she met Robby, Collins and Kate with an even expression.

“Hey,” Santos called, mentally thanking whatever deity was out there for her voice not breaking. “How’s Lily doing?” 

“I left her drawing for a second,” Kate replied with a gentle smile. “I already called the next of kin, Lily's aunt. She's making her way here from Philly. I didn't want to tell her about her sister's death when she had such a long drive to pull, though.” 

“Do we know how the other one is doing?” Collins asked, not managing to completely cover her bitter tone.

“Got a call from Shamsi,” Robby replied. “He should pull through.” 

“Hey,” Dana called as she approached them. “The police are here to talk to Lily.” 

“Absolutely not,” Kate declared. “They can wait until the aunt gets here and we talk to them.” 

Robby crossed his arms before his chest. “She’s a witness, whatever she has to say can be essential to put charges against her father.” 

“I know. She was the one that shot that gun. She wanted to stop her father from hitting her mom, so she sneaked into their bedroom, found that gun, and shot.” Kate straightened, her gaze firm as she dared Robby to disagree. “They can fucking wait until that little girl has her family here.” 

After a moment, Robby nodded. "Agreed, then. They can wait." 

Chapter Text

“Kate got in touch with Lily's aunt,” Dana spoke softly as she crossed Trauma One, coming to stand to Collins’ right by the opposite doorway. “She's going to be staying with that little girl until then so we should try to page Kiara for any other cases we might need their team for.” 

Standing to Collins’ left, Robby buried his hands in his hoodie's pockets with a sigh. “I should go talk to her. Let's give the team a few minutes to gather themselves and then we'll debrief.” 

“Copy that, Cap.” Dana finally looked at Collins, gently resting a hand on her shoulder. “You okay, sweetheart?” 

Collins didn't reply.

She heard the question, of course she did, if there were two people she was super attuned to in that hospital, those were Dana and Robby.

Maybe, this authors believes, the accurate term would be that Collins couldn't reply.

Because right then, two gurneys passed before them. 

One with a patient hooked to multiple machines and a focused staff that roll him down to the left, towards the elevator, towards the surgical floor. 

One with a patient that only had a tube down her throat, no bag attached to it. One gurney rolled down by two nurses guarding the patient as if they were two valkyries escorting a warrior into Valhalla. One gurney that rolled to the right, towards the morgue.

Collins watched until she couldn't any more, until her eyes went blind with tears. 

“On days like this,” Collins finally uttered. “You really have to wonder what is the point of this job.” 

Dana sighed. “The point is to try, I guess. To try to save as many as possible. On days like this, though, you really wonder.” 

“We still have a patient,” Robby began with hesitation. Having began therapy relatively recently, being vulnerable and open with his feelings was still a terrain he wasn't accustomed to. “Lily still needs our help. On days like this, the point is the people we can help even if that help isn't more than a supporting hand.” 

Collins took a few steps forward, her gaze following the path those gurneys had taken. Her thoughts were scattered, always one step before her as she rushed to gather and process them.

And when she finally did, she turned towards Robby with a frown. “You said we're debriefing?” 

Robby slowly nodded, her tone making him suspicious. “This case is in need of a debrief. Maybe Abbot can take care of it, since he was one of the leading physicians.” 

Collins shook her head. “No. I'll do it.” 

Robby crossed his arms before his chest, his eyebrows so high they almost teased his hairline. “No, you are not.” 

“Why? I was also a leading physician in this case.” 

“You are a Resident. Debriefing is something an Attending does.” 

“Abbot's patient is in surgery as we speak. Mine is dead. Who do you think people would want to hear from the most right now?” 

Robby stiffened at that. “Heather, you don't have to do this.” 

“Haven't you been trying to improve protocols ever since Pittfest?” Collins retaliated calmly. She took a step forward, watching as Robby's hands fidgeting, almost as if he was aching to reach for her. “This is one of them. I can do this, Robby. More than that, I want to do this.” 

Dana looked between them with a barely held smig smile before turning towards Robby. “I'll check on the rest, Cap.” 

Neither of them looked at her as she left, so neither of them took notice of how she rolled her eyes, muttering something about how she was very close to lock them in a room together until they figured their shit out.

With Dana gone, Robby's gaze turned soft as he continued to study his favorite resident. “You did everything you could.” 

Collins straightened, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge his words properly even as warmth erupted in her chest. “I didn't ask.” 

“But I know you're doubting yourself. So, I'm telling you. If you had missed something, I would have to told you or jump in to help.” Robby shrugged. “I never needed to because you did everything you could.” 

Collins gulped painfully, her gaze lowered to the ground in a poor attempt of hiding her tears. “It doesn't feel like it.” 

Robby extended a hand in invitation. “I know. So I'll say it, as many times as you need to.” 

Collins slowly grabbed his hand, interlocking their fingers. “Will you stand beside me? When I talk to the others?” 

Maybe it was the request, or the opening or even the soft tone she rarely used with him. In retrospective, it didn't really matter, all it mattered was that those words made Robby's weak restrain collapse. 

He tugged her hand lightly, sighing when she went into his arms willingly, easily, two pieces of a puzzle that had long lost the hope of ever reuniting.

Later, both of them would marvel at how good, how right it felt to be close to each other after such a long time.

In that moment, they could only enjoy.

“Of course, Heather.” Robby slowly pressed a kiss to her temple, his heart quivering when she only stepped closer. “Every step of the way.” 

oOo

“Ready?”

Samira had been staring at her hands, in slight beffudlement of the gloves that were currently covering them. How had they gotten there? 

“Mohan, you with me?”

Oh. That's how.

Samira looked up sharply, blushing when she Abbot's patient, yet intense gaze. “Yes! I mean. Yeah, sorry. I just… I'm slightly distracted, I think.” 

“Totally expected considering our last case,” Abbot replied easily, his forearms tensing as he finished tying the boxing bag to a post. “We can just sit, if that would make you feel better.” 

Samira, who had been staring at his forearms and trying to picture whether they would tense as much when wrapped around her waist, shook her head in an almost dizzying motion. “No, no. You're gonna have to teach me though, I’ve never boxed before.” 

Abbot’s lips lifted in a subtle smirk. “I'm sure you'll be perfect at it. Just like with everything else.” 

Samira tightened her boxing gloves around her wrists in a poor attempt of masking how good those words had made her feel.

This author doesn't blame her. In fact, this author can't help but marvel at her level of self-control. 

“So, is this the ED's most kept secret? You keep a boxing bag to decompress?” 

“What, you thought we just came up here and brood?” 

“How honest do you want me to be?” 

“Only attendings know of this, actually.” Abbot took a few steps, measured, confident, powerful, and at last stood beside Samira. “I'm actually breaking a code of honour by showing you this.” 

“I feel honoured,” Samira smiled despite herself, kind of in awe of the fact that she could still imagine after the case she'd just had. 

She could still see Trinity's tears as she finally stopped CPR. 

She could still feel the cold, violent, nauseating silence that enveloped them before Santos was ready to call time of death.

Suddenly, everything was cold. 

“How should I stand?” Samira asked, her voice quivering slightly. She refused to meet Abbot's eyes as he turned to study her. “I assume there's a whole science to this.” 

“You should have seen Shen when he first learned. He looked like an ostrich learning how to walk,” Abbot replied, his smirk heightened when Samira giggled. “You are left-handed, yes?” 

“How did you know that?” 

“I know everything, Dr. Mohan.” Abbot deadpanned. He then took a deep breath, clearly preparing steeling himself as he raised his hands slightly. “May I?” 

“Oh,” Samira looked at his hands before looking at his face and then returning her gaze to his hands. A shiver that had nothing to do with the wind ran through her body. “Yeah-yes. Go ahead.” 

Abbot telegraphed his movements, his large hands almost completely enveloping her waist. Samira gulped again.

“Okay, so you want to stand sideways like this so you're a smaller target, see what I mean? And you're going to keep this fist here, guarding your face. With the other one, you want to do this movement as you reach for a punch.” Abbot mimicked the movement with her, his voice as wrecked as Samira felt inside. “Exactly like that, Dr. Mohan. You ready?” 

Samira nodded faintly, not needing to look at herself in the mirror to know she looked as wrecked as she felt. “Got it, Dr. Abbot.” 

Abbot stayed behind her for a moment, his arms around her. Then, slowly, almost as if it pained him, he took a step back and retreated towards the boxing bag. He grabbed the bag firmly from behind and nodded at the beautiful woman before him. “Go ahead, then.” 

Samira focused on the bag, her punches hesitant at first. “I hate that we didn't even know her name until after she was already gone.” 

“I have to give it to our new social worker, she did a good job with that little girl.” Abbot commented before nodding at Samira's hands. “Punch harder, Dr. Mohan, give it everything you've got.” 

“What if I hurt you?” 

“Then I'll get hurt,” Abbot shrugged. “As long as,you don't hurt those hands of yours, we'll be fine.” 

“That little girl had her world explode around her today. That man… I don't understand why some people are parents. How it is so hard for some to be parents, when they are some of the best people around them, but it's so easy for others even if they are absolute monsters.” Samira punched harder, not even noticing Abbot huffing as he rested his weight against the bag. 

“Now you see why I like to stand here and brood?” Abbot asked, his heart hurting when Samira laughed humourlessly. 

“I might just join you, Jack.” Samira was too focused to realize she had called Abbot by his first name but the older man certainly wasn't. His hands tightening innecesarily around the bag certainly had nothing to do with it, what makes you think so? “I feel so, so useless.” 

“You're the smartest person here, so I don't have to tell you you did everything right.” 

“Does it change anything?” Samira asked in time with another punch.

“No. With time, though, it makes it slightly easier to move on from these cases. From these days.” 

Samira straightened, her breath heavy as she looked at Abbot, not really lowering her arms from their fighting position. “Can I ask you a question?” 

Abbot nodded instantly. “Of course.” 

“When you're here,” Samria began slowly, her gaze dancing back to the bag. She resumed practicing almost without thinking about it. “What makes you come down? What do you think about?” 

“At first I thought about my wife. How, if we weren't supposed to have forever, she instead wanted me to heal and live.” Abbot winced, partly covering his face with the bag. “Now, since I started therapy, since… since Pittfest, I guess, I’ve been realizing there are other things, other… people that make life something bigger than healing and surviving.” 

Samira felt herself choking up. “It's so unfair.” 

Abbot's voice was as soft as she'd ever heard it. “I know.” 

“Lily deserves to have her mom here. She deserves a better dad.” 

“I know.” 

Samira withheld a sob, her mind going to the place it always went when she had to deal with a case like this. Her mind went to her dad. And of how she missed him. Of how she deserved her dad to be here.

Of how everything was so, so fucking unfair.

“Samira,” Jack's voice suddenly pushed it's way into the silent chaos that was her mind. “Samira, look at me.” 

Samira looked up, slightly stunned. When had he gotten so close? 

“Samira,” Jack's voice was a breathless, enchanted whisper. He telegraphed his movements, tenderly cradling her face in his hands. “Sweetheart, you with me?” 

Samira closed her eyes at the petname, errant tear falling down her cheek.

Was this what it felt to be with someone, to have someone care about you? To have a partner? 

If this was it, it was intoxicating and she never wanted to be without.

So, for the first time in what felt like forever, Samira didn't hide. 

She didn't pretend she couldn't see what was right before her. 

She instead acknowledged the feelings painted in his face in bright, loving colours.

And jumped. 

“Jack,” Samira breathed, this time perfectly aware she was using his first name. She slowly leaned forward, resting her forehead against his, closing her eyes when she felt him shudder. “Thank you for showing me your spot.” 

She smiled when she felt him laugh. “You're welcome to it, Samira.” 

Samira huddled closer, humming when he wrapped his arms around her. “Will you use it with me?” 

A deep breath.

Followed by a promise.

“Always, sweetheart.” 

oOo

Kate's words had actually drawn Trinity back to the board.

As she stood right under the chaotic screen, her eyes wide and her lips pursed in focus, Trinity forced herself to focus on the list of patients - cherrypicking, not for a cool a case, but for the case with the most chances of allowing her to deal with some asshole.

She wondered whether she would better heading to Triage. None of them were supposed to be dealing with patients from Chairs at this time, but maybe Robby could make an exception. Maybe, Robby could understand that she needed to put this pent up energy she was carrying to good use, before she ended up making a mistake, like punching someone.

And she no longer had Langdon as an option so, who the fuck was she supposed to use? 

“Hey.” 

Trinity rolled her eyes, not bothering turning back to address the source of the voice. “What do you want?” 

“Please tell me you're not thinking of treating a patient right now.” 

“I know this is literally your first rodeo, Huckleberry,” Trinity smirked despite herself. “But in the ED, we treat the patients that are up here in the board.” 

“Not when you're ready to murder someone, Wednesday Addams.” 

“Huckleberry made a joke!” Trinity couldn't help but cackle, finally turning to glance at Whittaker with what could only be a manic gleam. “I feel like a proud mother hen. If mother hens were supposed to be chaotic, traumatized lesbians with a chip on their shoulders and who are nothing but trouble.” 

Whittaker blinked. “Okay, outside.” 

Trinity groaned. “C'mon, I was joking!” 

“Look at me not giving one single shit,” Whittaker retorted, swiftly walking around the counter to lightly pull Trinity with him. “Let's go, you can murder me in the ambulance bay if you want to.” 

“Don't tempt me with a good time,” Trinity called snarkily. 

“You forget I was on the other patient,” Whittaker interjected, completely ignoring Trinity's feeble attempts of beginning a verbal spat. “I also need to breathe.” 

At that, Trinity sobered up. “Shit, I forgot. How are you doing?” 

“It's… it was my first case related to domestic violence, believe it or not.” Whittaker shook his head in amazement as Trinity led them slightly apart from the entrance, to a pillar that made for a pretty good hiding spot. It was sort of wonderful, how easy it was for her to become serious when it wasn't her they were talking about. 

“Yeah, it doesn't matter how many cases you have, they always fuck you up.” Trinity sighed. She cracked her knuckles with a curse. “I still don't know how to feel like we've done enough. I don't think I'll ever be able to feel that.” 

Whittaker shrugged sadly. “Maybe that's it. If we've done enough, she would still be alive. Maybe it isn't about doing enough, maybe it's about doing everything we can.” 

Trinity nodded slowly at that, a smile pulling her lips upwards even as tears gathered in her eyes. “Wow, Whittaker. You are a regular Shakespeare, aren't you?” 

Whittaker hesitated, his hands buried in his pockets. “Do you…” 

Trinity gently nudged him. “Go on. Circle of trust and all that.” 

Whittaker rolled his eyes but straightened, his words coming out slowly. “I wanted my patient to die and yours to live. Does that make me a bad person?” 

“I think it makes you human.” 

“Holy shit!” Whittaker jumped, hand to his chest as he breathed heavily. Beside him, Trinity was shocked she hadn't noticed the long legs leaning against the back of the ambulance slightly to their right. After all, she had been staring at those legs all day. “Dude! Warn a guy before you traumatize him!” 

“It's a pleasure to formally meet you, Whittaker.” Kate stood up with a grin. She didn't immediately approach them, choosing instead to stand sheepishly next to that empty ambulance. “Sorry about that.” 

“Don't sweat it,” Trinity intervened, moving her shoulders with indifference when Whittaker glared at her. “For a farm boy, Huckleberry here sure is very scaredy.” 

“How is Lily doing?” Whittaker asked before Trinity could continue taunting him.

Kate slowly approached them, her features twisted into a saddened smile. “She's asleep. Dana said she'd watch her for five minutes while I took a breather.” 

“And this is your first day,” Trinity shook her head furiously. “Trial by fire, huh?” 

Kate sat on the floor beside them, tilting her head towards the sunlight. “I watched you in there. You stopped resucitation efforts last, didn't you?” 

Trinity blinked. “I-yes.” 

Kate closed her eyes. “This is actually my third gig. I first worked in a Center in Atlanta. When I realized I was working too close to my parents, I moved to Virginia for an year. Then I came here, and I'm really glad I did. I don't think I've ever worked with a team who cared this much.” 

“I think that's Robby's work,” Whittaker replied with a little smile. “He has been looking after us since day one.” 

“Suck up.” 

“Shut up.” 

“I guess. I think it's because of all of you, though.” Kate softly added, ignoring the banter right beside her. “There is no correct way to deal with a case like this. Because it's something that shouldn't have happened, because it's a horror none of us dare to even think of. So when it happens, it truly fucks you up, like Trinity so cleverly said.” 

“I think you have the power to be more eloquent than Trinity could ever be,” Whitaker slowly sat beside Kate, raising his eyebrows when Trinity slapped his shoulder. “What? I'm lying? Listen to the woman talk!” 

“I'm not a doctor, Whittaker.” Kate chuckled humbly. “I could never understand what you guys are feeling now.” 

“But you're a woman. And I think, this isn't the first you've gone through a case like this.” Trinity slowly sat on Whittaker's other side. “Also, there's a little girl that still depends on you. I would like to hear what you have to say.”

Kate looked at her, gentle, but intensely, and completely ignoring Whittaker sitting between them. “Lily may grow up not remembering our faces, our voices or even our names. She will remember feelings. She'll remember fear, sadness, and grief. What happened to her, it'll change irrevocably the way she sees the world.” 

Whittaker crossed his arms. “That’s a fucking strong start.

Kate rolled her eyes. “But she'll also remembered that we all cared. Her doctors, her nurses, myself and Kiara, we all protected her to the best of our abilities at a time she felt absolutely alone in the world. Maybe, I hope, that will help her remember that if there are monsters in this world, there are also warriors and angels and humans with golden hearts.”

“What I did today doesn't change the outcome. In the long run, it is of no consequence.” Trinity shook her head, her gaze lowered to her lap. Her voice without a smidge of humour. 

“You were the last to stop.” 

“Does it make any difference?” 

“Yes. Because you cared. Because you care so much that you're sitting here trying not to cry, almost as if her grief was your own.” Kate suddenly shot to her feet, stretching her arms before offering Trinity a gentle smile. “You were the physician that little girl deserved, Dr. Santos. In the long run, she'll remember that. So, I know it's my first day and I'm being way too confident, but I think this team is lucky to have you.”

With that, she walked back inside, her steps measured and regal. Her posture alert, as if feeling Trinity's eyes on her back. 

“If you don't marry her, I will.” 

“You're literally gay, Huckleberry.” 

“So? It's the principle of it all.” 

“Oh my god.” 

oOo

“Can we watch She-Ra?” 

Frank smiled down his phone, his hand distractedly twirling his friendship bracelet. “Sure, buddy. You will have to tell me all about the characters, though.” 

By the other end of the line, Tanner giggled. The sound fixed something in Frank's heart he didn't even know he had broken.

“They're all so cool, Daddy, you're going to love it. And I think you and I will have the same favorite.” 

“Oh, really? Which one is it? 

“If I tell you now, it won't be a surprise.” 

The sound of the lounge room’ door made Frank look up, his smile growing even warmer when he noticed Mel slipping into the room. “Oh, c'mon, how am I supposed to wait now?” 

“It's only four days, daddy!” 

Mel silently lowered herself to the floor beside Frank, her hand finding his. Frank didn't have to look at her to know they were thinking the same thing. Friday couldn't come soon enough.

“I think your favourite character has something to do with water,” Frank guessed instead. He exchanged a beaming smile with Mel when the little boy went silent.

Finally, the younger Langdon whispered. “How did you know?” 

“Ah, that's a secret, young man.” 

“Are you a wizard, Daddy?” 

Frank downright giggled, leaning against Mel when tucked her face into her shoulder to hide her own glee. “I wish buddy. I just know you really well.” 

“I miss you, Daddy.” 

And that sobered them right up. 

“I miss you too, baby.” Frank managed to reply, not daring to look at Mel as she edged closer to him. “But it's only a few days, okay? We're going to have a blast, I promise.” 

“Okay,” Tanner agreed easily. His voice was light, the prospect of a sleepover with his dad enough to make him forget about anything else. “I have to go. I love you, Daddy.” 

“Love you too. I'll call the two of you tonight, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

Silence enveloped Frank and Mel for a long moment, silence in which Frank stared at the floor and Mel stared at him.

Finally, Frank laughed humourlessly. “I feel so fucking useless.” 

“Frank.” 

“No, seriously.” Frank carefully put his bracelet back around his wrist. “I saved this man today, this dad, that was too angry or too fucked up in the head or whatever, that his daughter had to shoot him and still, he managed to break his entire family. I feel so dirty and so fucking useless.” 

“I know,” Mel quietly replied. She clutched his hand with both of hers. “I know.” 

“I know I'm doing the steps, and I know that I'm going to see my kids more often from now on. Abby, fuck, Abby was far kinder with me than what I deserved.” Frank pinched his nose with fingers, his voice tortured. “I would give everything to have them here with me.” 

“That makes you a dad that loves his kids with every beat of his heart. That doesn't make you useless.” 

“I destroyed everything in the first place though, didn't I? How can I think I'm anything but fucking useless?” 

For a few minutes, Mel didn't know quite what to reply to that, which Frank took for silent agreement to his words.

When Mel at last broke the silence, her voice was uncharacteristically nervous, as if she was opening up more than she thought she was ready to.

“The first thing I learned when I was a little girl was that I was alone.” Mel shook her head slowly, her gaze on her lap. “There were always people around me and there was always noise, and there were always voices, sometimes so intense it all felt blinding… but I was always alone. I firmly believed I would always be alone.”  

Mel felt Frank edging closer to her but she didn't dare look up. She would eventually, because it's Frank we're talking about, but she couldn't yet. She had to let it all out first. 

“I don't talk much about my dad because there isn't much to tell. He wasn't a good guy and the last kind action he granted us was leaving when we were about to start highschool. And I know it sounds shitty but you have to believe me, to live with the man was to walk around on eggshells, to be terrified of making him angry because his words would cut.” Mel released Frank's hand to clasp her own tightly together. “And my mom was frail, even before she got sick, and I grew up knowing I was alone and being okay with it. It was Becca and me against the world and Becca is my whole world so really, how couldn't I be okay with it?” 

Frank didn't say anything, but he slowly enveloped one of Mel's hands with his, squeezing it when Mel sighed and rested her head against his collarbone.

“I was okay with it, but I still dreamed. Of getting out, of being free, of being anything but afraid. I used to picture myself at the top of the highest tower in a castle, just looking at the beaten, empty road that led to where I was. And I didn't even imagine I was a princess, I was there as I was. A little girl with pigtails messily done by her sister, glasses perched on her nose and wearing her best Winx pajamas.” Mel and Langdon chuckled together, peaceful in their joint existence. “I would dream that someone would come, save us, and we wouldn't be alone anymore. Of course, it didn't take many years for me to realize that I would have to be my own savior, but it was a nice dream to have when I was a little girl.” 

Frank finally spoke, his voice a hoarse whisper. “Mel, why-?” 

Mel pretended not to have listened, even as she rested their joint hands on her lap.

“It was only when I started working here that I finally found my people. Suddenly, there were people that didn't want to leave us, people that saw us for our hobbies and our interests and our lives, not because of the things that society decided made us an spectacle. You all took us in, me and Becca, and in a manner so genuine I actually believe you want us in your lives.” 

“We do,” Frank interjected quietly. “Of course we do.” 

“Remember when you got out of rehab, and you texted me to ask me how my day was going and I told you I was having a really horrible shift? I went home that day feeling miserable and ready to drag myself to bed and cry into my pillow.” Mel slowly caressed a thumb across Frank's hand, smiling when Frank's breath hitched. “Instead, I found you waiting for me by the front steps of my house, takeout in one hand and the other ready to pull me into a hug. You had already called the Center and arranged for Becca to stay overnight, you arranged our dinner while I took a shower and you forced me to watch House of the Dragon. When I went to bed, my stomach hurt from how hard I had been laughing.” 

Frank looked down at his lap, suddenly feeling shy. “I remember. I loved that night.” 

“Today wasn't the first time I heard you call yourself useless. But it hurts me, everytime you say that it hurts me. Because you came into my life, into my sister's life, and you made me believe I could find my people when I had long lost that hope.” Mel finally looked at Frank, feeling weirdly calm when he looked at her with barely concealed adoration. “You don't have an idea of how much you've changed my life, Frank Langdon. You don't have an idea of how much I’ve healed ever since I met you. So tell me, how the fuck could you be anything but useful?” 

“Mel,” Frank breathed. 

Mel smiled despite herself, her heart giddy. “What?” 

“I love you,” Frank utter, his eyes wide as if shocked he had actually managed to say out loud. “God, I love you so fucking much.” 

Mel could have melt right then and there. Instead, she kissed his cheek softly and buried her face against his chest, smiling when Frank wrapped an arm tightly around her. “I love you too. I love you so much.” 

So, the reader might wonder, what did it mean in this case, for two partners, two lives, two souls recognizing one another, to declare their love? 

This author isn't quite sure of the answer, to be honest.

She reckons, though, that there isn't an specific answer. And that neither Mel nor Langdon needed it.

Because if they were in each other's lives, if they were each other's person, if they meant home to each other. 

That was more than enough for the moment.

“Hey, Frank?” 

“Yeah?” 

“If you call yourself useless again I'm going to let Becca sell your manga collection online.” 

“...I don't have a manga collection.” 

“Yes, you do.” 

“...copy that, darling.” 

oOo

It felt weird, watching them all filter into the room.

Mel, Langdon, Santos and Whittaker stood to her right, closer than she would have expected. Santos and Mel had clasped their hands together, Mel looking earnest and Santos looking ready to burst into tears.

Mohan stood flanked by García and Javadi. Slightly behind them, Dana watched over them all carefully. Beside her, Kiara was saying something in her quiet, lovely voice of hers.

McKay and Mateo were discussing quietly between themselves. The rest of the nurses stood around the doctors in little groups, or standing by themselves.

At last, Kate sneaked into the room, standing by the edge, one of her eyes firmly placed in the direction of the family room.

“You ready?” 

Collins turned to her right, locking eyes with Robby. Beside him, Abbot was watching them both with a quizzical eyebrow. 

The senior resident didn't reply. She didn't have to. She just had to show it and so, ignoring the two men beside her, she turned towards the crowd around her.

“You know the drill,” Collins began. She slowly looked around the room, making sure she locked eyes with everyone. “When we get the hardest cases, the ones that are more likely to haunt us, we do these debriefs to try and help continue with our day. Because, no matter what, we are a good team and we do everything we can, even if it seems so little. This job will fuck you up if you let it. So, let's talk about it. Let's debrief and continue doing what we do best, saving lives. Let's begin.” 

Chapter Text

To some, Collins might have been perceived as a boring young woman. 

And, you have to believe, that was something she was very, very, proud about. 

After an exciting career change from Finance to Medicine, Collins had studied in OSHU Medical School, staying at home in Portland to cut back on expenses after what had been one of the worst economic recessions in modern history.

Throughout medical school in Portland, a brief rotation at West Penn before finally settling in PTMC starting her intern year, Heather Collins had been focused, responsible and not at all interested in cutting corners to advance her career.

What the reader must understand about Dr. Heather Collins, senior resident, rule follower and all-around badass queen, is that she'd learned enormously from both the best and the worst aspects of the world she'd been chosen to experience for herself.

As a black woman in a world in which it would be so hard to feel safe for being either. As a person in a capitalist world that only served a few. As someone who'd grown up in a medium-income household and had witnessed for herself how much her parents worked to give them a dignified living. As someone who had lived a fulfilled life like hers, Heather Collins was definitely a woman who knew much about the world she lived in and the people around her.

So, she learned. She learned that if she wanted to succeed, if she wanted to be guaranteed a life in which she didn't have much to worry about, then she needed to follow the rules. She needed to keep her head down, work to the best of her abilities and be the smart and prudent advocate her patients deserved. 

As someone had once said, she was a rule follower in an environment that required flexibility. 

Or some bullshit like that. 

If asked, Collins would say that throughout her career, throughout her life, she had proudly followed that path and that path had been good for her. That path had granted her the life she lived, the privileges she held and the freedom she cherished.

Except for one exception. 

And what that exception, who that exception meant to her years later… well, the jury's still out on that one.

Uncertainty isn't an easy thing to live with. Knowing that your world might be shaken without previous warning, having felt such movements before and having managed to survive, it would make anyone want to be cautious moving forward.

Once everything has been destroyed, it isn't to build from the ground. Doable? Yes. Easy? No.

If she's being honest, this author would have to say she understands Collins. Pretty well, in fact.

So, when Collins made her way to Central to pick up her next case after leading the debrief with the team, she did so without having a possible idea of who the next patient in line would be.

And when she did read the name, well, there aren't many people who would have caused her stomach to drop from the shock.

This author doesn't blame her at all for wanting to cherry pick cases for the first time in her entire residency. 

Does she blame herself for writing this storyline? Yes, but that's besides the point.

From the other side of the counter, Dana looked at her with a raised eyebrow, her tablet momentarily forgotten in her hands. “You okay, kid?” 

“Yes, I'm fine.” Collins’ voice was breezy, in the way it always was when she had a hard time processing a turn of events. “I'll take the infected leg in Central 16.” 

“Got it. You taking anyone with you?” 

That made Collins pause. 

Because, while this was one of the last patients she wanted to treat, she was not at all responsible for being associated with the worst day of her life. Did she want to avoid her? Yes. Was it fair to either of them? No, not really.

To Collins, rules were not only a guideline. They were also a comfort, something she could expect, and a factor she could rely on for when things went sideways. 

Even on the worst day of her life or even with the people she wanted to never see again, that was something that remained true.

But if she was to suffer, she certainly wasn't going to do it on her own.

A rule follower in an environment that required flexibility. 

Fuck you, Robby. 

For an answer, Collins turned, nodding at Javadi as she walked past her. “Javadi, you're with me.” 

The young med student turned around excitedly, clutching her stethoscope as she stood beside Collins with a cheerful little skip. “Of course, what do we got?” 

“Infected leg in Central 16.” Because Collins wasn't actually evil, she subtly gestured in the direction of the board. “Look for yourself.” 

It was absolute cinema, how Javadi looked upwards with a bright smile, her eyes shining with anticipation of what had to be a really cool case, only for her entire expression to drop into horror once her gaze fell on the patient's name. 

“Oh, no.” 

“Oh, yes.” 

Javadi shook her head rapidly. “Dr. Collins, you don't understand, this was my first patient.”

“I absolutely understand, I was there.” Collins gently directed her towards the patient's room, her hands on her shoulders and a smile on her lips when Javadi squeaked. “Best way to face your fears. Let's go save some lives!” 

oOo

“Hi Minu,” Collins shot the woman sitting on the bed a warm smile before redirecting it in the direction of the man sitting beside her. “Hi, Sam. Please don't take this the wrong way but I was hoping we wouldn't have to see the two of you here again.” 

“It's always a pleasure to see you doc but believe me, we didn't want to be back here either.” Sam replied with a friendly nod before leaning towards Minu, muttering a few words in broken Gurung. 

Collins eyed Javadi expectantly, nodding in reassurance when Javadi returned her gaze with wide eyes. Princess walked past them in the direction of the vitals machine, successfully swallowing a giggle when Javadi jumped in surprise. 

“Minu Amatya, 61, was here four months ago for a degloving injury in her lower right leg plus an open fracture after being caught between the train tracks and a passing train.” Javadi cleared her throat, shaking her head slightly as her eyes slowly returned to their normal size. “She received treatment here in PTMC, which included several surgeries to repair the damage to her leg and a protocol for skin grafts. She's here today after noticing increased swelling during the last two days.”

“Excellent presentation, Javadi. Let's get language services into the case, okay?” Collins watched as Javadi left the room to follow her orders before turning towards the couple with a smile. “Is it okay if I take a look, Minu?” 

Minu nodded slowly, smiling when Sam grabbed her hand in both of his. 

“We should have come sooner,” Sam admitted with that calm voice of his. He exchanged a sheepish glance with Minu before turning his focus on Collins’ careful examination of the wound. “I think we were a little bit afraid of what it could mean? And, Minu has an appointment with Dr. Freitas to check up on the skin grafts on Thursday so…” 

“I understand but there's no use thinking of hypotheticals. You're here now and our team is going to do everything we can to figure out what's going on,” Collins continued palpating around the wound, turning towards Minu with a kind look, as hard as it was to look at her. “Minu, could you tell me how's the pain from 1 to 10, 10 being the worst?” 

“...6,” Minu affirmed decidedly after a long moment. “But it was… more low last week. A 4, maybe.” 

“Okay, let's page Ortho and Plastics down here, STAT.” Collins looked up as Javadi made it back into the room. “Vitals?” 

“Right,” Javadi cleared her throat before putting on her stethoscope. “Would you mean if I take a listen of your lungs and heart, Minu?” 

Minu nodded slowly, leaning forward on the bed so Javadi could place her stethoscope on her back. She refused to let go of Sam's hands, which caused the older man to shoot a shy smile in Collins direction. “I would make a joke but honestly, I'm as clingy as she is.” 

“Clear breath sounds bilaterally, no retractions,” Javadi voiced after a moment, still carefully listening. Then, she turned towards the screen, “SpO2 at 94%.” 

“Pulse 98, BP 90/60.” Princess nodded, already reaching for the tools necessary to get an IV prepped and ready.

“Vitals are looking good. Javadi, would you take a look at the injury?” Collins straightened, subtly nudging Javadi so they could exchange places. She reached for the thermometer before smiling at Sam. “Some would say clingy is good. I take it you two have been seeing each other since that day?” 

“Yeah, took me a while to ask her out, though. I was too nervous and I didn't want to be disrespectful of what happened that day, you know?” Sam shook his head. His hands squeezed Minu's as a haunted look crossed his features. “That day… We met on the worst day of our lives. But we managed to turn that into something good. This, us… I'm very grateful for all of it.”

Collins turned her head towards Minu, taking her temp for a second time so she could gather herself.

The worst day of their lives.

The worst day of their lives.

Collins squeezed her eyes together, refraining from resting her hand on her flat, empty middle. 

The worst day of their lives.

Collins understood that more than she could ever hope to explain.

She subtly bit her lower lip, waiting for the pang in her heart to pass so she could carry on. 

She was a rule follower in an environment that required flexibility, after all, didn't you know? 

“I'm very glad you could do that, Sam. You deserve nothing but good things. Both of you,” Collins’ smile was more emotional than she would have wanted, but she managed to cover it as she glanced towards Javadi in expectation. “Temp's 98,4. Javadi?” 

“The skin looks celulitic and there's definitely a little bit of swelling. I don't see any signs of necrosis.” Javadi straightened with a proud smile, which made sense considering she fainted the last she saw that injury. “Should we start Minu on IV antibiotics?”

“Yes, please.” Collins grabbed her ipad from the little plastic table by the end of the bed. “What labs would you order?” 

“CBC, blood and wound cultures.” Javadi replied immediately. 

“Good. Let's also do a CRP to check the inflammation.” Collins replied. “Let's also get some images of what we're working with. An x-ray and an MRI should be good for now.” 

“Wait doc,” Sam watched as Princess moved around the bed, hooking Minu up to an IV with a friendly little smile before turning towards Collins with a frown. “What’s going on? Is she gonna be alright?” 

“We're just ordering some tests to get an exact idea of what's going on and what's the best way to help Minu.” Collins sat on a stool besides both Minu and Sam, silently nodding Princess and Javadi to leave the room. “Once we get the results and once we get the surgical team down here to take a look at the wound, we'll talk to you about the next steps.” 

“Is she-,” Sam gulped, leaning towards Minu when she rested an arm across his shoulders. “Is she going to lose it, Dr. Collins?”

Collins took a deep breath. 

She hated the uncertainties of life. She really fucking did.

So the aspect of her job that came with not knowing exactly what would happen, that was the part she hated the most. 

“We'll do our best to avoid that, Sam. In the meantime, take a minute to relax as best you can and I'll be back as soon as I get the lab results.” Collins stood from her chair, giddy that she'd managed to survive that first encounter as well as she did. “Can I get you anything in the meantime?” 

“No, thank you.” Sam kissed Minu's hand. “Do you want anything, sweetheart?” 

Collins turned towards the older woman, her mind distracted as she thought of herself outside, away from memories, protected from pain, free of any triggers.

And then, Minu reached for her hand, her gaze mournful as they danced from her stomach to her face. 

Her stomach.

The stomach that, four months later, was as flat as it'd been that day. 

“I'll be right back,” Collins managed to say in a breathless squeak, her feet already turning towards the door.

Away from everything.

Away from everyone.

Until she could breathe. 

Until she could forget, again, of the life she'd lost. 

Until there was no more pain.

Chapter Text

To some, Collins might have been perceived as a boring young woman. 

And, you have to believe, that was something she was very, very, proud about. 

After an exciting career change from Finance to Medicine, Collins had studied in OSHU Medical School, staying at home in Portland to cut back on expenses after what had been one of the worst economic recessions in modern history.

Throughout medical school in Portland, a brief rotation at West Penn before finally settling in PTMC starting her intern year, Heather Collins had been focused, responsible and not at all interested in cutting corners to advance her career.

What the reader must understand about Dr. Heather Collins, senior resident, rule follower and all-around badass queen, is that she'd learned enormously from both the best and the worst aspects of the world she'd been chosen to experience for herself.

As a black woman in a world in which it would be so hard to feel safe for being either. As a person in a capitalist world that only served a few. As someone who'd grown up in a medium-income household and had witnessed for herself how much her parents worked to give them a dignified living. As someone who had lived a fulfilled life like hers, Heather Collins was definitely a woman who knew much about the world she lived in and the people around her.

So, she learned. She learned that if she wanted to succeed, if she wanted to be guaranteed a life in which she didn't have much to worry about, then she needed to follow the rules. She needed to keep her head down, work to the best of her abilities and be the smart and prudent advocate her patients deserved. 

As someone had once said, she was a rule follower in an environment that required flexibility. 

Or some bullshit like that. 

If asked, Collins would say that throughout her career, throughout her life, she had proudly followed that path and that path had been good for her. That path had granted her the life she lived, the privileges she held and the freedom she cherished.

Except for one exception. 

And what that exception, who that exception meant to her years later… well, the jury's still out on that one.

Uncertainty isn't an easy thing to live with. Knowing that your world might be shaken without previous warning, having felt such movements before and having managed to survive, it would make anyone want to be cautious moving forward.

Once everything has been destroyed, it isn't to build from the ground. Doable? Yes. Easy? No.

If she's being honest, this author would have to say she understands Collins. Pretty well, in fact.

So, when Collins made her way to Central to pick up her next case after leading the debrief with the team, she did so without having a possible idea of who the next patient in line would be.

And when she did read the name, well, there aren't many people who would have caused her stomach to drop from the shock.

This author doesn't blame her at all for wanting to cherry pick cases for the first time in her entire residency. 

Does she blame herself for writing this storyline? Yes, but that's besides the point.

From the other side of the counter, Dana looked at her with a raised eyebrow, her tablet momentarily forgotten in her hands. “You okay, kid?” 

“Yes, I'm fine.” Collins’ voice was breezy, in the way it always was when she had a hard time processing a turn of events. “I'll take the infected leg in Central 16.” 

“Got it. You taking anyone with you?” 

That made Collins pause. 

Because, while this was one of the last patients she wanted to treat, she was not at all responsible for being associated with the worst day of her life. Did she want to avoid her? Yes. Was it fair to either of them? No, not really.

To Collins, rules were not only a guideline. They were also a comfort, something she could expect, and a factor she could rely on for when things went sideways. 

Even on the worst day of her life or even with the people she wanted to never see again, that was something that remained true.

But if she was to suffer, she certainly wasn't going to do it on her own.

A rule follower in an environment that required flexibility. 

Fuck you, Robby. 

For an answer, Collins turned, nodding at Javadi as she walked past her. “Javadi, you're with me.” 

The young med student turned around excitedly, clutching her stethoscope as she stood beside Collins with a cheerful little skip. “Of course, what do we got?” 

“Infected leg in Central 16.” Because Collins wasn't actually evil, she subtly gestured in the direction of the board. “Look for yourself.” 

It was absolute cinema, how Javadi looked upwards with a bright smile, her eyes shining with anticipation of what had to be a really cool case, only for her entire expression to drop into horror once her gaze fell on the patient's name. 

“Oh, no.” 

“Oh, yes.” 

Javadi shook her head rapidly. “Dr. Collins, you don't understand, this was my first patient.”

“I absolutely understand, I was there.” Collins gently directed her towards the patient's room, her hands on her shoulders and a smile on her lips when Javadi squeaked. “Best way to face your fears. Let's go save some lives!” 

oOo

“Hi Minu,” Collins shot the woman sitting on the bed a warm smile before redirecting it in the direction of the man sitting beside her. “Hi, Sam. Please don't take this the wrong way but I was hoping we wouldn't have to see the two of you here again.” 

“It's always a pleasure to see you Doc but believe me, we didn't want to be back here either.” Sam replied with a friendly nod before leaning towards Minu, muttering a few words in broken Gurung. 

Collins eyed Javadi expectantly, nodding in reassurance when Javadi returned her gaze with wide eyes. Princess walked past them in the direction of the vitals machine, successfully swallowing a giggle when Javadi jumped in surprise. 

“Minu Amatya, 61, was here four months ago for a degloving injury in her lower right leg plus an open fracture after being caught between the train tracks and a passing train.” Javadi cleared her throat, shaking her head slightly as her eyes slowly returned to their normal size. “She received treatment here in PTMC, which included several surgeries to repair the damage to her leg and a protocol for skin grafts. She's here today after noticing increased swelling during the last two days.”

“Excellent presentation, Javadi. Let's get language services into the case, okay?” Collins watched as Javadi left the room to follow her orders before turning towards the couple with a smile. “Is it okay if I take a look, Minu?” 

Minu nodded slowly, smiling when Sam grabbed her hand in both of his. 

“We should have come sooner,” Sam admitted with that calm voice of his. He exchanged a sheepish glance with Minu before turning his focus on Collins’ careful examination of the wound. “I think we were a little bit afraid of what it could mean? And, Minu has an appointment with Dr. Freitas to check up on the skin grafts on Thursday so…” 

“I understand but there's no use thinking of hypotheticals. You're here now and our team is going to do everything we can to figure out what's going on,” Collins continued palpating around the wound, turning towards Minu with a kind look, as hard as it was to look at her. “Minu, could you tell me how's the pain from 1 to 10, 10 being the worst?” 

“...6,” Minu affirmed decidedly after a long moment. “But it was… more low last week. A 4, maybe.” 

“Okay, let's page Ortho and Plastics down here, STAT.” Collins looked up as Javadi made it back into the room. “Vitals?” 

“Right,” Javadi cleared her throat before putting on her stethoscope. “Would you mind if I take a listen of your lungs and heart, Minu?” 

Minu nodded slowly, leaning forward on the bed so Javadi could place her stethoscope on her back. She refused to let go of Sam's hands, which caused the older man to shoot a shy smile in Collins direction. “I would make a joke but honestly, I'm as clingy as she is.” 

“Clear breath sounds bilaterally, no retractions,” Javadi voiced after a moment, still carefully listening. Then, she turned towards the screen, “SpO2 at 94%.” 

“Pulse 98, BP 90/60.” Princess nodded, already reaching for the tools necessary to get an IV prepped and ready.

“Vitals are looking good. Javadi, would you take a look at the injury?” Collins straightened, subtly nudging Javadi so they could exchange places. She reached for the thermometer before smiling at Sam. “Some would say clingy is good. I take it you two have been seeing each other since that day?” 

“Yeah, took me a while to ask her out, though. I was too nervous and I didn't want to be disrespectful of what happened that day, you know?” Sam shook his head. His hands squeezed Minu's as a haunted look crossed his features. “That day… We met on the worst day of our lives. But we managed to turn that into something good. This, us… I'm very grateful for all of it.”

Collins turned her head towards Minu, taking her temp for a second time so she could gather herself.

The worst day of their lives.

The worst day of their lives.

Collins squeezed her eyes together, refraining from resting her hand on her flat, empty middle. 

The worst day of their lives.

Collins understood that more than she could ever hope to explain.

She subtly bit her lower lip, waiting for the pang in her heart to pass so she could carry on. 

She was a rule follower in an environment that required flexibility, after all, didn't you know? 

“I'm very glad you could do that, Sam. You deserve nothing but good things. Both of you,” Collins’ smile was more emotional than she would have wanted, but she managed to cover it as she glanced towards Javadi in expectation. “Temp's 98,4. Javadi?” 

“The skin looks celulitic and there's definitely a little bit of swelling. I don't see any signs of necrosis.” Javadi straightened with a proud smile, which made sense considering she fainted the last she saw that injury. “Should we start Minu on IV antibiotics?”

“Yes, please.” Collins grabbed her ipad from the little plastic table by the end of the bed. “What labs would you order?” 

“CBC, blood and wound cultures.” Javadi replied immediately. 

“Good. Let's also do a CRP to check the inflammation.” Collins replied. “Let's also get some images of what we're working with. An x-ray and an MRI should be good for now.” 

“Wait doc,” Sam watched as Princess moved around the bed, hooking Minu up to an IV with a friendly little smile before turning towards Collins with a frown. “What’s going on? Is she gonna be alright?” 

“We're just ordering some tests to get an exact idea of what's going on and what's the best way to help Minu.” Collins sat on a stool besides both Minu and Sam, silently nodding Princess and Javadi to leave the room. “Once we get the results and once we get the surgical team down here to take a look at the wound, we'll talk to you about the next steps.” 

“Is she-,” Sam gulped, leaning towards Minu when she rested an arm across his shoulders. “Is she going to lose it, Dr. Collins?”

Collins took a deep breath. 

She hated the uncertainties of life. She really fucking did.

So the aspect of her job that came with not knowing exactly what would happen, that was the part she hated the most. 

“We'll do our best to avoid that, Sam. In the meantime, take a minute to relax as best you can and I'll be back as soon as I get the lab results.” Collins stood from her chair, giddy that she'd managed to survive that first encounter as well as she did. “Can I get you anything in the meantime?” 

“No, thank you.” Sam kissed Minu's hand. “Do you want anything, sweetheart?” 

Collins turned towards the older woman, her mind distracted as she thought of herself outside, away from memories, protected from pain, free of any triggers.

And then, Minu reached for her hand, her gaze mournful as it danced from her stomach to her face. 

Her stomach.

The stomach that, four months later, was as flat as it'd been that day. 

“I'll be right back,” Collins managed to say in a breathless squeak, her feet already turning towards the door.

Away from everything.

Away from everyone.

Until she could breathe. 

Until she could forget, again, of the life she'd lost. 

Until there was no more pain.

oOo

Cassie McKay met the love of her life in rehab.

It wasn't as simple as that, though. Nothing ever is. Let it be known that when she met the love of her life, she had long stopped believing that something as pure as true love existed. Love, in a world filled with hate, was something in high demand and as rare as a unicorn.

And Cassie? Cassie had been fighting her entire fucking life. So Cassie only left musings of love for the sleepless nights, the nights in which nothing else would sweep her into the loving arms of a deep sleep. Cassie only dared to dream of love when despair overtook everything else and therefore, there was nowhere left to go.

The oldest of three, Cassie McKay had grown up in a liberal, open-minded household in the middle of a conservative town. Within the four walls of her childhood home, her parents had raised her to speak as loudly as she could, and to never grow silent. Outside of it, she was expected to be proper, mellow, docile.

Silenced.

Cassie often wondered if she'd have turned any different had she been an only child. If she hadn't felt the need to defend her sisters loudly so that her mother - shy in nature, older than the average for other parents, and her favourite person in the world - didn't have to.

But then she would see how her sister's male classmates would whistle when her sister wore a skirt to school. Or she would comfort her brother when his peers mocked him for not being as athletic and preferring to study. Or she would go to church and be told by her parents’ acquaintances that she needed to start dolling up if she ever hoped of finding a husband, all of this while her siblings watched. 

To this day, Cassie McKay would look back at her life and be very fucking happy she didn't shut up. She spoke louder. She fought back.

As a result, her skin grew thick as steel.

As a result, she was cast aside. 

As a result, her brother and sister grew up to be fearless, independent and really fucking strong.

As a result, she went to the other extreme, and ended up drifting towards a circle of people that weren't good for her for entirely other reasons. 

Chad was the worst to come out of that time.

Harrison was the best. 

And rehab? Rehab was her chance of rebirth.

“Cassie?” 

Cassie looked up from her place by the corner of the on-call room, smiling at the girl hesitating by the doorway. “Hey, Mel.” 

“I'm waiting on Piper's lab results, but right now she's talking to Kiara, which I think is equally as important.” Mel lowered herself to the floor, making herself comfortable by the opposite wall when Cassie didn't ask her to leave. “Can I…”

Despite herself, Cassie felt her lips lifting in a small smile. There was something about Mel that made her feel as if she could talk, as if she could be vulnerable. 

They were both women to whom the world hadn't been kind. They were both caretakers. They were both two of the best residents in the field, precisely because of every fucking battle they fought and won.

Take your pick. Whatever it was, Cassie felt her defenses standing down every time it was just the two of them.

She still wasn't sure she was okay with it.

“You can ask,” Cassie heard herself saying, to the surprise of them both. “I know you won't tell.” 

“Of course, Cassie, thank you for trusting me.” Mel reassured immediately. She stiffened slightly, her eyes widening behind her glasses. “Was Piper… how do you know Piper?” 

“Piper was a patient of mine four months ago. On your first day, actually. She came with a woman called Lisa, who said was Piper's boss. She wouldn't let Piper answer any questions, wouldn't leave her alone, apparently let Piper live in her apartment because she was all alone in the city.” Cassie dragged a hand down her face in frustration. “I caught the signs, got Dana to help me get Piper alone. I talked to her. I tried my best to get her to accept help. And she left, she wouldn't admit anything bad was going and she left. She left and I couldn't fucking help her.” 

Mel wrapped her arms around her legs. “She came back. Accepting help is very, very hard. Sometimes, it takes a few times, doesn't it?” 

Cassie chuckled bitterly. “She came back, and she yelled that she wanted another doctor. I didn't help her four months ago and now, she doesn't want to see me.” 

“Do you think she's angry at you?” 

“I think she has every right to be. I'm fucking angry at myself too, so I understand her.” 

Mel cocked her head in deep thought. “I'm gonna be honest, Cassie. I have another theory but I don't want to tell you if you don't want to hear it.” 

Cassie laughed. “You're the smartest of us all, Dr. King. Let 's hear it.” 

“I think anger never comes on its own. I think there's always an emotion behind it, and I think anger can be used to mask it. If Piper didn't want to see you again because she was too angry or, you know, whatever, she would have gone to another hospital.” Mel's voice was as sure as whenever she presented a case during rounds. 

Cassie looked at Mel with surprise. “I hadn't thought of it like that.” 

“I think she's ashamed she didn't ask for help when you offered. I think she lashed out because you were the only one to provide her with support and a helping hand. I think that, whatever you said that day, you let her know this place has people willing to help her stand on her own two feet again.” Mel shrugged. “You really think you didn't help her that day?” 

Cassie crossed her arms before her chest. “You're not going to guess what emotion I'm hiding?” 

“Do you actually want me to?” 

Cassie sobered up. Suddenly, it wasn't as easy to maintain eye contact with her fellow resident. “Did you know I was in rehab many, many moons ago?” 

Mel's voice didn't shift in the slightest. “We talked about it after the first time I went to visit Frank.” 

“Right.” Cassie nodded slowly, her fingers toying with a loose thread in the sleeve of her shirt. “I met someone there. A woman. And I fell in love with her. Deeply, and intensely and happily in love. And she needed help. There was a man that demanded that her love, her time and her life be devoted to him. And I tried to help her. I really did. I tried so much and I offered everything I could, I offered everything I had if I'm being honest.” 

“Cassie, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to.” 

The older woman sniffed. “She was the first woman I couldn't help. And I miss her so much, every single day. But I like talking about her because, as much as she was the saddest part of my life, she was also one of the happiest.”

Mel intertwined her hands together. “I bet she felt the same.” 

Cassie wiped a tear down her cheek with a sad laugh. When had she started laughing? “You really think so?” 

“I really, really do Cassie. I'm so sorry you went through a loss like that.” 

“It makes me so fucking angry that we get to live in this world in which we have to fight so much to even be able to live. It's like year after year we fight against the same shit and still, every year we see women like my Clara, women like Piper, who come into the ED as victims and survivors of this awful system. And I'm so fucking tired of going through the same fucking shit!” Cassie cleared her throat in a valiant attempt of getting rid of the knot clogging her throat, her voice growing louder as her walls came down. “I'm gonna be honest, Mel, I don't think I know which emotion I'm hiding. Maybe I'm sad as well, and I'm trying to focus on the fact that I'm really fucking angry so I don't cry because I really, really don't want to cry. I want to break something, I want to burn down the whole fucking world but I don't want to cry.” 

Mel adjusted her glasses before nodding. “When I was in highschool, I overheard a few classmates talking about me and my sister. They didn't know us for shit but they were talking about how I was really weird and… I won't voice what they said about Becca. I was standing there and listening to them and I just… I was so tired, you know? And like, two of them were girls and I remember thinking, I would have never talked about anyone like, let alone a fellow woman. Sorority, you know?” 

Cassie felt her heartbeat returning to normal, her breathing evening as she felt herself get hooked to Mel's story. “What did you do?” 

“I… promise you won't judge?” 

“I swear on my life, King.” 

“I punched all three of them in the nose.” 

Cassie barked a shocked laugh. “I'm sorry, what!?” 

Mel blushed, even as a proud smile adorned her face. “I broke my thumb and everything. I never regretted it completely, not really. By that time, I had already learned that if I wanted anyone to save me, I was going to have to do the job myself.” 

“That’s badass, King.” Cassie whistled lowly, face twisted in admiration. “You and I have even more in common than I thought.” 

“That really means a lot, Cassie.” Mel positively preened at the comment. “You know, when that happened, Becca and I got it into our heads that we needed to learn how to punch properly. She picked up on it much faster than me, of course. That day, I learned I didn't have to fight alone, because there was another woman willing to have my back no matter what.” 

Cassie hummed. “I don't know if I have anyone like that. Not here, at least.” 

“Well, I'm gonna do my best with Piper, you know that.” Mel lowered her gaze, her cheeks reddening in something resembling nerves. “And I can have your back with any other cases you might need. Only if you have my back as well, of course.” 

Cassie managed to summon the first genuine smile in the last few hours. 

That was the thing with anger.

Anger was a mask. Anger could be toxic. Anger was an emotion not many people knew how to control. When it came to anger, Cassie McKay had seen and dealt with all of its causes and all of it's consequences. 

Anger could harm. Anger could destroy. Anger could burn down everything. 

Cassie McKay had grown up with deep, deep respect towards anger. Respect that bordered on fear.

But there was a lot of power in feeling anger. There was a lot of power in exercising anger through healthy channels. To Cassie McKay, that was always clear in her bond with other women and in the unity that came with standing together under the same banner, and fighting for the same cause. 

So this author isn't at all surprised that Cassie finally managed to pull herself to her feet, dragging Mel with her before offering her a hand to shake.

“You've got yourself a deal, Melissa King.”

oOo

Contrary to all belief, Trinity Santos wasn't fond of fighting.

She was good at it, of course, maybe even excellent. And there were many reasons to it. The one Trinity liked to stick to, most of the time, was something she actually came to terms with the moment she subscribed to the feminist ideology: this realization that if she couldn't fight, the road ahead of her was going to be really fucking steep.

As it turned out, she could fight. She could fight very well.

She loved speaking louder, the longer they tried to shut her up. She was a really huge fun of coming up with arguments against any and all signs of misoginia around her. 

And she found that she could even speak and fight for those that - for some reason or the other - couldn't at the moment. 

Those were the only times she actually felt useful.

Trinity was actually quite sure her Sherlock tendencies had something to do with it. And her childhood, of course, but that wasn't something she liked to think about. If it's all the same to the reader, this author will respect her wishes and stick to the lighter theory for a moment.

Ellis had actually been quite accurate when she called her Sherlock and if she hadn't had been having a fucking awful day - or if it hadn't hit a nerve on an already extremely vulnerable day -, Trinity was pretty sure she would have ended up developing a crush on the intimidatingly beautiful senior resident.

(She's very glad she didn't. After García, Trinity was pretty sure she had dealt with enough romantic drama with the doctors of PTMC to sustain her for the rest of her residency).

To be a feminist, to be a woman - let alone a queer woman, let alone a lesbian - in a world that found arguments against the existence of all three, it made Trinity take up many skills.

If she was survive, to win the fight, to clap back against all comments, all actions, all arguments intended to disrespect her life, her identity and her freedom to love, then she needed to be cunning. She needed to learn as much as she could about her adversary, and she needed to find that one weak spot that would make her win.

She was competitive, she was observant and she wasn't afraid to hit a nerve. Thar was what had made her excellent at sports growing up, what made her a very good feminist, and what made her a really fucking exceptional doctor.

Trinity Santos didn't like to fight. She didn't like the spotlight, and actually preferred to hide by the sidelines.

But she did like to win. And, for better or for worse, her life, her essence and her mind made her someone really fucking good at being under the spotlight.

Life was nothing if not a fucking conundrum.

“Oi, Bright Spark, what you looking at?” 

Trinity’s head swivelled so sharply to the right that for a second she worried she actually had twisted something. She glared at the person (read: nuisance) sitting in the work station next to hers, innerly praying he hadn't noticed the way she'd startled. “What is it to you, Just Ken?”

“Just Ken?” 

“She’s everything, he's just Ken? Where were you when Barbie came out, living under a rock?” 

Langdon rolled his eyes. “Hilarious. As always.” 

“Your words mean everything to me, as always.” Trinity deadpanned, the corners of her lips lifting despite herself when Langdon snorted. “Hey, you okay?” 

Langdon raised an eyebrow. “What’s with that question?” 

“Just a question, ass-face. It's just,” Trinity hesitated, her eyes drifting in the direction of Langdon's patient room, before she turned back towards her colleague. “We all have patients that are harder for us to treat. Just wanted to know how you're holding up.” 

Langdon shrugged, both of them choosing not to comment on how his gaze flickered in the direction of his patient's room. “It was scary when I thought we weren't going to get him back. His vitals are stable though, so he'll be able to go home in a few hours. He allowed his sister to see him and Kiara is talking with both of them. He's gonna be okay.” 

Trinity nodded, her gaze back on her screen. “I'm glad.” 

“You actually are, huh?” 

“I'm not an asshole, Langdon. As much as the world would like to think otherwise.” 

Langdon stiffened. “Do people here think you're an asshole because of me?” 

Trinity blinked. “I-.” 

“I'm being serious, do they think you're an asshole because you told Robby about me?” 

Trinity turned her chair towards Langdon. “What is it to you?” 

“I don't want to have anything to do with it.” Langdon kept his gaze firmly on his computer. “If people think you're an asshole, let it be because of you, not me, Dr. Santos.” 

“Cute,” Trinity rolled her eyes. “But no, Dr. Langdon. If they think that, it is because of me.” 

A few moments of silence ensued, both doctors desperately trying to catch up as much as they could on their charting before the momentary q-word ended and it was time to re-join the fray. 

As Langdon seemed not interested in resuming their conversation, Trinity allowed herself to relax slightly, her shoulders dropping as she saved her chart on her head-lac patient and opened the one on her broken femur patient. 

And then, a grating voice irrupted through her easing thoughts once again.

“How were they to you?” Langdon shrugged sheepishly when Trinity arched an eyebrow in her direction. “How did they treat you when they found out you were the one to tell Robby?” 

Trinity cocked her head, thinking back on those first weeks in which the ED had had to carry on without their favourite Prince. Everything had settled eventually, of course, balance had a way of succeeding even in the most dire of circumstances. 

But some had dealt with it better than others. 

“I don't think people knew what to think of me for that,” Trinity finally answered. She kept her eyes on her monitor even as she felt his boring into the side of her face. “Like you said, not many would have done what I did.” 

Langdon snorted. “And I assume people were too busy thinking badly about me to consider you, which I deserved.” 

“You don't.” Trinity shook her head. The words felt like acid coming out of her mouth but she had to utter them. For herself, for the best friend she lost so long ago. Fuck, even for Langdon. “You were desperate. Everything you did, it doesn't have an excuse but it also is redeemable. It's an illness. As doctors, we should all understand that.” 

Langdon nodded slowly, his eyes much too wide for Trinity to be actually comfortable. “You know a lot about that? Desperation?” 

Trinity’s hands froze on her keyboard, her eyes widening as that innocent question, those little, counted words, dawned in her. 

As the memories, of a past long buried, of a wound tightly sewn together, of a friend forever missed, uselessly attempted to come back to the surface. 

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean-.” 

“I had a patient that day,” Trinity forced herself to speak before Langdon could continue talking or even worse, apologizing. “Guy fell down a ladder, came in with his wife and daughter. It turned out his wife had been putting progesterone in his coffee to lower his libido.” 

Langdon stiffened. “Oh.” 

“She was desperate. She didn't want to hurt him but she was desperate and she was hurting and she just needed to do something.” Trinity still wouldn't look at Langdon, still couldn't dare taking her gaze off her past, off her own desperation. “I think it comes in many ways. Despair. And I think we all suffer pain and we all fight battles others have no idea. I don't want anyone to judge me and I wouldn't want anyone to be judged. Even you.” 

Langdon slowly turned his chair towards Trinity. His hair flopped down his forehead, his gaze careful as it studied her. 

Trinity couldn't help but wonder whether this attention was what had made Mel fall in love with him. Not that she could understand. She was too much of a lesbian to understand.

And also, it was Langdon. Trinity would easily join Robby and Abbot on the roof before ever even trying to understand what would anyone see in the disgraced Prince of the ED.

“What happened to her?” Langdon finally asked. “To the wife.” 

“I don't know,” Santos replied, the words hurting her throat far too much. “I couldn't help her. She trusted me and I… I failed her.” 

Langdon's expression was even. “Who was in charge of that case?” 

Trinity's gaze hardened. “Robby.” 

“Did he know?” 

“He did. So did Kiara.” 

“Okay,” Langdon nodded as he turned back to his computer. “Dr. Santos, one of the hardest things to understand about being a doctor is that there is only so much we can do. Even if we lived in a world with infinite resources, time and luck, patients will still refuse our help, will still die, will still need more than what we can do or give. You told your attending in charge, and you told the social worker. You did everything in your power to help that woman.” 

Trinity shook her head. “I could have convinced Robby, I could have talked to her, I could have talked to her daughter again-.” 

“If you think like that, you're going to lose your fucking mind.” Langdon cleared his throat nervously. “I spent enough time in rehab thinking of everything I could have done differently. I understand you, Dr. Santos, and I don't want you to lose your mind before your residency has a chance to truly begin.” 

Trinity turned towards Langdon at that, her gaze furious and brimming with tears. “What makes you think you have the right to tell me this?” 

Langdon met her gaze with his own, unrelenting and calm as the incoming tide. “Not the right. The experience.”

Trinity scoffed. “Of?” 

“Of a senior resident with three more years of training. Of a drug addict that spent too much time crying over what he broke, instead of thinking of how to fix it. Of someone who knows a lot about despair… the same, I suspect, as you.” 

Trinity truly wondered whether a gunshot would have hurt less.

A gunshot or the truth. 

She would have made that choice frighteningly easily.

And it came when, of all people, fucking Langdon was giving her advice.

Sometimes life loved to point and laugh, huh? 

“What would you do, then?” Her words were like poison, bitter and snarled, her mouth twisting almost in horror. Still, she managed to utter them.

“Take what you learned, use it the next time. With the next patient. Unfortunately, there will always be a next patient and a next patient. And never forget, Dr. Santos. Never forget about those you saved, and those you wished you could have helped.” 

Trinity nodded slowly. “Want to take the next case together?” 

Langdon brightened. “The projectile vomiting? I want to leave the road rash for Mel, she loves those cases.” 

“It is nauseating how smitten you are with her.” 

“Is that jealousy I'm detecting?” 

Trinity rolled her eyes as she stood. “Bitch, please. If I ever feel jealous, I'll get myself a puppy. You're basically the same thing.” 

Langdon stood with a grimace. “Which kind of puppy, though?” 

“Seriously?” 

“Seriously, I want to know which kind of dog I'd be.” 

“A really stupid one, most likely.” 

“Fuck you, Bright Spark.” 

“Try me, Ass Face.”

oOo

“So…what's the tea?” 

Robby blinked at Abbot as he fell into step beside him. “What?” 

Abbot shrugged his shoulders, his gaze expectant. “Been a while since we worked the same shift. Got any gossip?” 

“Since when do I care about gossip?” 

“C'mon, Robby, don't be boring.” 

“Also, since when do you say ‘what's the tea?’” 

“May I remind you I'm much younger than you?” 

At that, Robby stopped dead in his tracks, narrowly avoiding two nurses rolling down an empty gurney as he turned to glare at his companion. “I'm four years older than you. Just four.” 

Abbot shrugged again as he buried his hands in his pockets. “Biologically. Mentally? Closer to a hundred.” 

Robby sighed, resuming his stroll as he unlocked the tablet in his hands. “I am so regretting this.” 

“You're an awful liar, brother.” Abbot was cheerful as he easily kept up with the taller man. He raised his hands to clutch the ends of his stethoscope before nodding at Robby. “Go on, then. If you want to leave gossip for when we're off shift-.”

“I don't do gossip.” 

“-- that's fine, let's talk work for now. Where are you going?” 

“I wanted to check on our pending patients at Chairs before making the rounds on our staff,” Robby replied, his gaze never leaving the triage records he had uploaded on his tablet. “Speaking of which, what do you think about them?” 

Now it was Abbot's turn to blink. “What do you mean?” 

“What do you think about our staff? About the teams they made, the way they work, what they could learn.” As they finally reached Triage, Robby lowered his tablet, sighing as he cracked his neck. “You have worked with all of then, of course, but not during the days. So. What do you think?”

Abbot levelled him with a studious gaze. “You're asking because…” 

Robby shrugged innocently. “Educational purposes.”

“Right,” Abbot grunted, knowing from years of experience that Robby didn't want to talk about it and that unfortunately, it wasn't the time nor the place to push. “I haven't seen much of them as a team, to be honest. They didn't work all at once during nights with me, as you know.” 

“But you did see them. During Pittfest and on other shifts,” Robby argued much softer than what Abbot expected. “And I know you have been analyzing them since their first day. If you had to make teams, which teams would you make?” 

“King ran point on Yellow on her first day and came up with the blood donation idea.” Abbot snorted after a moment, his head shaking in amusement. “Did you know she actually came to find me before her first night shift to let me know she's still excited to be here?” 

Robby chuckled at that. “I'm not surprised at all.” 

“She will still go to Langdon, Mohan or even Shen if she needs any help because she became used to them. I wouldn't put her in a team with a mentor, though, I would put her in a team with a peer, an equal, someone who'll make her more empowered.” Abbot shrugged. “McKay seems like a solid choice.” 

“And Mohan?” Robby asked, his eyebrows rising in interest when Abbot immediately straightened. 

At that point, a muffled curse interrupted their conversation, Robby and Abbot turning to watch Javadi depart the supply closet, speeding past them with bundles of gauze in her hands and an ashen expression on her face.

After a moment of surprised silence, Abbot elbowed Robby sharply. “Did you notice that she's an MS3 and her stethoscope is much more expensive than those of any of the other residents, or even ours?” 

Robby frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?” 

“She's Shamsi's kid which means that, while I respect the fuck of her - I have immense respect for both of them, actually - Javadi probably grew up with a very sheltered idea of the world, an idea she's going to have to give up pretty quickly if she's going to give the best treatment possible, in an equal manner, to all of her patients.” 

Robby crossed his arms before his chest. “That’s where Mohan comes in?” 

“Mohan is our most brilliant and empathetic resident. Javadi will learn much from her.” 

“You realize you're blushing, right?” Robby deadpanned. “Is there something going on between you and Mohan?” 

Abbot's eyebrows rose in challenge. “I don't know. How's Collins, by the way?” 

Robby snorted despite himself. “Fair enough.” 

“Collins should be put with Whitaker,” Abbot continued, his cheeks going back to their normal colour now that he wasn't being so blatantly judged. “The kid has a lot of skill but his worst enemy is himself. If he stopped doubting so much, he would improve immediately. He needs a mentor that isn't afraid of praising him, criticizing him or challenging him.” 

“That leaves Langdon and Santos.” Robby mused, wincing slightly as he imagined the duo. “Are you sure?” 

“They need to learn how to work together.” Abbot argued calmly. “They are much too similar. I don't care if they're involved in a duel at midnight, they need to solve whatever hatred they have before they drag the entire team into it.” 

“Will you keep an eye on him?” Robby asked, his voice much more hesitant than a moment ago. “After everything that happened, I don't know how much trust he has in me at the moment and honestly, I don't know if I can blame him. Keep an eye on him, will you?” 

Abbot titled his head, trying to lock eyes with Robby as the taller man looked down to the ground. “What happened to him wasn't your fault.” 

Robby shrugged sadly. “I didn't help matters either, didn't I?” 

Abbot took a deep breath, doing his best to keep his calm, even as he found himself dealing with this infuriating mountain of a man before him. “Why are you doing this?” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Okay, we're doing this now.” Abbot looked at either side of the hallway, content by finding it empty except for the two of them. He pushed Robby unceremoniously towards the supply closet, closing the door behind them. “You think I don't know what you're doing?” 

Robby shrugged defensively, his gaze still on anywhere but his friend. “Tell me, Dr. Abbot. What am I doing?” 

“You begged for me to change my shifts. You're asking me how I would change things with the staff. You're making half your team in charge of coming up with new protocols and you're making me review every single one of them with you-.” 

“Last I checked, you're an Attending, same as I.” 

“You're trying to step down from being Chief,” Abbot continued, his face reddening when Robby didn't utter a word in response. “You're trying to pass the job to me and I'm telling you right fucking now: I will not help you quit. You hear me? I won't help you fucking quit.” 

Robby shook his head quietly. “That isn't up to you.” 

“Yes, it fucking is. You're feeling guilty about Langdon? Talk to the guy, apologize, but what happened to him wasn't your fault. You still thinking about Pittfest? Keep it up with therapy, talk about it as much as you want, you pay your therapist for a reason.” Abbot took a step forward, forcing Robby to finally look at him. “You need my help? I'm here and I'll help you with anything. But I know you, and I know you're trying to tie loose ends. This ED, this team, it doesn't work without you leading it. I will not help you fucking step down.” 

Robby took a deep breath, his eyes reddening. When his voice came out, it was hoarse, tortured, devoid of any secrets. “Jack.” 

“Robby, brother.” Jack clasped Robby by the shoulders. He refused to acknowledge how his voice quivered. Maybe he would talk about it in therapy. “How can I help you?” 

A moment passed in which the two best friends looked at each other, years of work, loss and friendship making their communication as easy as it was silent.

And then, Robby opened his mouth again.

“Help me send a message to Jake?” 

Chapter Text

Dearest reader: by this point you should be able to notice that this story, told hour by hour, is about friendship. It's about how, in the thickest of it all, when it all seems as dark as it can possibly get, it is friendship, humanity and solidarity that brings us up and get us ready to fight once again. 

It is based in love, yes, but it is more than that, because we need more than love to fight for and support ourselves and the others.

After all, we're reaching the end of this story. If the message hasn't been clear yet, then this author has much work to do.

When Jack Abbot and Michael Robinavitch exited that supply room, only a few minutes had passed, but the change in their demeanor was noticeable even to those who knew them the least in that ED.

“I don't think the message was sent,” Robby mumbled, all but forgetting about his reddened eyes as his gaze was lowered to his screen. He stalked back to Central, his plan of checking in on Triage long gone with the wind. 

“Let me see,” Jack forcefully took the phone out of Robby's hands, blinking at the screen with utter confusion. “How do you even know it wasn't sent?” 

“There's only one tick under the message.” 

“Doesn't that happen when you're blocked?” 

Robby stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes wide as he turned towards his best friend. “Jack, what the fu- are you saying Jake blocked me!?” 

Jack winced, throwing an utterly intimidating stare in the direction of Princess and Perlah, who were unabashedly staring at them, before grabbing Robby by the arm. “I'm not saying that. You know more about this shit than I do, Robby, you're probably right.” 

“I don't know shit about this.” 

“And I know even less.” 

“Wait, what do you mean I'm right?” Robby frowned, crossing his arms before his chest, his forearms tensing inside the sleeve of his navy blue hoodie. “What am I thinking happened?”

Jack blinked again. All at once, he felt as if he was dealing with a teenager, rapidly finding out he was not at all prepared for the task. “He's probably somewhere without access to the internet.” 

“He's supposed to be at school.” 

“Maybe he's taking a test. He isn't supposed to have his phone when taking a test.” 

“Wouldn't it still be… connected to the internet, though? Isn't he - what was the term you used?” 

Jack smiled despite himself. It was at moments like this - when Michael Robinavitch, fearless leader, best Chief the PTMC ED has ever had and emotionally constipated inactive suicide risk, felt into a deep crisis over a text - that he felt honoured he got to see a side of his best friend nobody else did. “Chronically online?” 

Robby snapped his fingers with a satisfied nod, as if those two words were enough to prove his worst fears. “That’s it. So, why would he be without the internet?” 

Slowly, Jack returned the phone to Robby, motioning him to put it away in his cargo pants when Robby merely frowned at him. “How about we wait longer than ten minutes to start freaking out?” 

“It's already been ten minutes. Thirteen, as a matter of fact.” 

“Will you calm the fuck the down?” 

Robby opened his mouth to retort, his expression much too affronted - at least in Jack's opinion, but he was very much set on the opinion that Robby was intent on drowning in a glass of water, so he was fairly certain his opinion was actually really fucking accurate - when Dana came up to them, phone to her ear.

“There's a protest happening right now against ICE,” Dana started urgently. “It happened in Presby's turf, so all criticals will be going over there but we should expect an influx of non-criticals coming our way. First ambulance's 5 minutes out.” 

“Shit,” Robby cursed. He rubbed his temple tiredly for a moment before nodding at Jack. “Get the team together, organize them how we talked about.” 

“Copied,” Jack nodded before leaving the makeshift circle, clapping his hands as he made it to Central. “Everybody, listen up!” 

Dana watched Jack for a moment before turning back towards Robby. “What are your orders, Cap?” 

“Is Gloria aware of the incoming?” Robby asked, cracking his neck when Dana nodded. “Let's get as many patients as we can upstairs. Even if we don't get the criticals, I want to be as prepared as we can and that means having as much room as possible. I expect no trouble from anyone upstairs.” 

“Consider it done,” Dana replied. “Disaster bins are already being brought down, as well as sedatives, painkillers, tourniquets, the works.” 

“We should be expecting a shitload of burns, Ortho injuries, and GSW. Surgical team?” 

“Coming down as we speak. So is anesthesiology.” 

“Great. Shen and Ellis?” 

“Already called. They are on their way.”

“Very well, then.” Robby nodded, his expression grave. “Let's get this over with, I'll deal with Gloria when she gets here.” 

Prepare for the worst, hope for the best. It had been the motto of the PTMC ED ever since the Adamson's days and Robby had continued that legacy to the best of his abilities.

As Robby looked around the room, he was brought back to Pittfest, because of course he was, but he was also reminded of what his team was, what his team represented. 

To his left, Langdon and Santos were helping each other gown up, getting ready to take care of Triage. Langdon was wearing a bright orange vest, which Santos had only scowled once at. 

Robby would count that as a victory.

Before him, Collins and Mohan were rapidly preparing for each station, Whitaker and Javadi following them with barely concealed nerves, although they seemed much more prepared than during Pittfest. 

To their right, Jack was talking with King and McKay while the older woman made sure Mel's braid was tight enough.

All around them, nurses flew across the ED in a fully coordinated dance, their roles clear and scheduled, as it could only happen in a good ED.

After a long moment of careful study, Robby nodded to himself, slowly and with satisfaction.

As this author said, this story is about friendship. It is about what brings a community up when the shit really, really hits the fan. It's about humanity, solidarity, and the power that comes with raising our voices for a message that matters, especially when that message or issues doesn't affect us personally but it does affect someone else.

The five minutes came.

The five minutes went. 

And as scheduled, the first patient made it into the ED.

Robby took a step forward, half listening to the rundown being given by one of the paramedics to Mel, when the patient looked up straight into Robby's eyes.

Robby actually thought he was going to fucking die. 

“Jake!?”

Chapter Text

Dearest reader: by this point you should be able to notice that this story, told hour by hour, is about friendship. It's about how, in the thickest of it all, when it all seems as dark as it can possibly get, it is friendship, humanity and solidarity that brings us up and get us ready to fight once again. 

It is based in love, yes, but it is more than that, because we need more than love to fight for and support ourselves and the others.

After all, we're reaching the end of this story. If the message hasn't been clear yet, then this author has much work to do.

When Jack Abbot and Michael Robinavitch exited that supply room, only a few minutes had passed, but the change in their demeanor was noticeable even to those who knew them the least in that ED.

“I don't think the message was sent,” Robby mumbled, all but forgetting about his reddened eyes as his gaze was lowered to his screen. He stalked back to Central, his plan of checking in on Triage long gone with the wind. 

“Let me see,” Jack forcefully took the phone out of Robby's hands, blinking at the screen with utter confusion. “How do you even know it wasn't sent?” 

“There's only one tick under the message.” 

“Doesn't that happen when you're blocked?” 

Robby stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes wide as he turned towards his best friend. “Jack, what the fu- are you saying Jake blocked me!?” 

Jack winced, throwing an utterly intimidating stare in the direction of Princess and Perlah, who were unabashedly staring at them, before grabbing Robby by the arm. “I'm not saying that. You know more about this shit than I do, Robby, you're probably right.” 

“I don't know shit about this.” 

“And I know even less.” 

“Wait, what do you mean I'm right?” Robby frowned, crossing his arms before his chest, his forearms tensing inside the sleeve of his navy blue hoodie. “What am I thinking happened?”

Jack blinked again. All at once, he felt as if he was dealing with a teenager, rapidly finding out he was not at all prepared for the task. “He's probably somewhere without access to the internet.” 

“He's supposed to be at school.” 

“Maybe he's taking a test. He isn't supposed to have his phone when taking a test.” 

“Wouldn't it still be… connected to the internet, though? Isn't he - what was the term you used?” 

Jack smiled despite himself. It was at moments like this - when Michael Robinavitch, fearless leader, best Chief the PTMC ED had ever had and emotionally constipated inactive suicide risk, felt into a deep crisis over a text - that he felt honoured he got to see a side of his best friend nobody else did. “Chronically online?” 

Robby snapped his fingers with a satisfied nod, as if those two words were enough to prove his worst fears. “That’s it. So, why would he be without the internet?” 

Slowly, Jack returned the phone to Robby, motioning him to put it away in his cargo pants when Robby merely frowned at him. “How about we wait longer than ten minutes to start freaking out?” 

“It's already been ten minutes. Thirteen, as a matter of fact.” 

“Will you calm the fuck the down?” 

Robby opened his mouth to retort, his expression much too affronted - at least in Jack's opinion, but he was very much set on the opinion that Robby was intent on drowning in a glass of water, so he was fairly certain his opinion was actually really fucking accurate - when Dana came up to them, phone to her ear.

“There's a protest happening right now against ICE,” Dana started urgently. “It happened in Presby's turf, so all criticals will be going over there but we should expect an influx of non-criticals coming our way. First ambulance's 5 minutes out.” 

“Shit,” Robby cursed. He rubbed his temple tiredly for a moment before nodding at Jack. “Get the team together, organize them how we talked about.” 

“Copied,” Jack nodded before leaving the makeshift circle, clapping his hands as he made it to Central. “Everybody, listen up!” 

Dana watched Jack for a moment before turning back towards Robby. “What are your orders, Cap?” 

“Is Gloria aware of the incoming?” Robby asked, cracking his neck when Dana nodded. “Let's get as many patients as we can upstairs. Even if we don't get the criticals, I want to be as prepared as we can and that means having as much room as possible. I expect no trouble from anyone upstairs.” 

“Consider it done,” Dana replied. “Disaster bins are already being brought down, as well as sedatives, painkillers, tourniquets, the works.” 

“We should be expecting a shitload of burns, Ortho injuries, and GSWs. Surgical team?” 

“Coming down as we speak. So is anesthesiology.” 

“Great. Shen and Ellis?” 

“Already called. They are on their way.”

“Very well, then.” Robby nodded, his expression grave. “Let's get this over with, I'll deal with Gloria when she gets here.” 

Prepare for the worst, hope for the best. It had been the motto of the PTMC ED ever since the Adamson's days and Robby had continued that legacy to the best of his abilities.

As Robby looked around the room, he was brought back to Pittfest, because of course he was, but he was also reminded of what his team was, what his team represented. 

To his left, Langdon and Santos were helping each other gown up, getting ready to take care of Triage. Langdon was wearing a bright orange vest, which Santos had only scowled once at. 

Robby would count that as a victory.

Before him, Collins and Mohan were rapidly preparing for each station, Whitaker and Javadi following them with barely concealed nerves, although they seemed much more prepared than during Pittfest. 

To their right, Jack was talking with King and McKay while the older woman made sure Mel's braid was tight enough.

All around them, nurses flew across the ED in a fully coordinated dance, their roles clear and scheduled, as it could only happen in a good ED.

After a long moment of careful study, Robby nodded to himself, slowly and with satisfaction.

As this author said, this story is about friendship. It is about what brings a community up when shit really, really hits the fan. It's about humanity, solidarity, and the power that comes with raising our voices for a message that matters, especially when that message or issue doesn't affect us personally but it does affect someone else.

The five minutes came.

The five minutes went. 

And as scheduled, the first patient made it into the ED.

Robby took a step forward, half listening to the rundown being given by one of the paramedics to Mel, when the patient looked up straight into Robby's eyes.

Robby actually thought he was going to fucking die. 

“Jake!?”

oOo

It was all Frank Langdon’s fault.

Before you try to come up with any arguments against such a statement, yes, Dr. Trinity Santos was more than aware that there wasn't any scientific proof to support it.

And she's still a daughter of science, she’s still someone who craved information, someone who strived on gathering as much data as she could in order to have the full picture. We have already covered this.

She's still someone who will blame Frank Fucking Langdon until the day she died.

Which brought her - and us - to the current setting: an ED overrun by patients injured during a peaceful protest up until the police showed up. For the most part, they were alert and with strong vitals, which made Trinity incredibly grateful.

Gratefulness got until a certain point, of course. There were still too many patients, too many people. There was still too much fear, too much uncertainty, too much doubt for not only their medical outcome, but for their outcome once they made it out of the hospital.

Up until the day she started working at PTMC, Trinity Santos would say she was proficient at wearing a poker face. She controlled, in an irrevocable an easy manner, who was allowed past the walls she had long erupted around her mind and her heart. Even then, even when it came to those few, privileged individuals, Trinity reserved herself the right to evict them from her mind, heart and feelings the moment it became useful to her.

Something happened that first day.

And it happened even before Pittfest.

That day in which she stabbed a coworker in the foot, that day she couldn't protect a kid from her dad, that day she helped a kid that just didn't want to stick around anymore get help… throughout those moments, something happened.

And it happened with the people she met. She still couldn't pinpoint the exact moment and, being honest, she's sure she would never be able to but… but sometime between teasing Whitaker, riling Javadi up, bonding with Mel and learning from Samira, something happened.

Somehow, four people changed her irrevocably, and suddenly she was no longer able to wear a poker face.

Either that, or Langdon had somehow gotten good at reading expressions because, once Shen joined them at Triage, the senior resident took one good look at her and gently ordered her to take five.

As Santos sped walked across the ED, she shook her head, gaze on the floor.

Langdon couldn't have noticed anything. Langdon wasn't good at anything.

As she looked up, Santos noticed with relief that there was an empty room to her right and, before even thinking about it, she was diving for it, taking off her trauma gown with a subtle shudder.

“Fucking Langdon, every time I work with the asshole we have a fucking MCI on our hands, fucking useless bastard-.”

“Gee, don't hold anything back.” 

“Fuck!” Santos yelled, holding a hand to her chest as she whirled around, noticing Kate for the first time. 

“Go on, you were cursing Dr. Langdon,” Kate nodded with amusement as she gently rocked a toddler nestled in her arms. “I kind of want to hear what you wanted to say.” 

“What- why do you have a kid?” Trinity asked weakly, still feeling her erratic heartbeat. She wondered whether that was happening because of the fright she just went through or because she was alone - kinda - with the most beautiful girl she had ever seen.

Anyways. Semantics. 

“This little angel and her mom were at the wrong place at the wrong time. Mel just finished suturing a head lac across her temple, so I offered to stay with her while her mom got a coffee and talked with Kiara.” Kate's smile was gentle as she looked down at the sleeping girl in her arms. When she looked up, though, her smile bled off as she noticed Trinity's barely concealed panic. “Hey - what do you need?” 

Trinity looked up in shock. 

What did she need? 

She wasn't really sure, to be honest. Which was a first, and a terrifying one at that. 

Slowly, she lowered herself to a chair by the corner of the room, her breathing still slightly too heavy, her gaze wandering around the room wildly. 

She needed it to stop. 

Whatever it took, she needed to stop her feelings before they got to be too much.

Trinity raised her hand slowly, choosing to ignore the fact that it was shaking weakly. “I like your necklace.” 

Kate looked down in surprise, her face brightening with a soft smile as she noticed the little girl in her arms was holding onto her necklace with her chubby little hand. It was simple, a piece of black thread wrapped around her neck, a shimmering blue stone hanging from it. And yet, it somehow worked perfectly on Kate. “Thanks! I got it in Ushuaia when I went with my sisters two years ago.” 

Trinity sank down into her seat. “Are you close to them?” 

“Yeah, they're my best friends.” Kate chuckled suddenly, looking up at Trinity with an amused glint in her eyes. “You know, it was my sister's birthday and she was leaving for college a month after that, so her other sister and I decided to organize a trip for the three of us. Marianne, the birthday girl, was actually the one to choose Ushuaia. You should have seen her face when she realized it meant we would be trekking all day.” 

Trinity let out a giggle, utterly surprising them both. Her cheeks flushed red, even as she dared to lock eyes with Kate. “Do you like to trek?” 

“Not as much as my other sister, Gina, but I definitely like it. I love the views you get to see, mostly.” Carefully cradling the little girl still snoozing in her arms, Kate sat on the empty cot, letting out a slow breath when she didn't wake. “I always walked at the end of the group, which annoyed my sisters to no end because I did it to make sure I kept my eye on them in case they slipped or anything else happened, but I also did it so I could take photos in peace without feeling I was holding them back.” 

Trinity buried her nails in her hands. She could not go and kiss this kind social worker in the middle of an MCI, as much as she wanted to. “You are a really good sister.” 

“Please tell them when you meet them, I could use the back up.” Kate joked, her cheeks heating up as she realized what she had implied. Then, her gaze turned dreamy, her sight clearly on something only she could see. “There was this trek we did, close to three hours towards a small waterfall. At one point, it was just the three of us 

surrounded by these five mountains. There was absolutely no one else, no other sound. Only our breathing, our laughter and the peace that came with being with our favourite people in the world.” 

“Wow,” Trinity breathed. She shook her head in awe. If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel the clear, cool wind of the mountains. “That sounds absolutely incredible. I'm… I'm really happy you lived a moment like that.” 

“Thank you,” Kate replied almost shyly. She bit her lower lip in hesitation before nodding slowly. “What about you?” 

Trinity blinked. “What about me?” 

“Ever lived through a moment like that?” 

“Oh.” For a moment, Trinity actually feared she was about to panic again, but something about Kate's earnest, sweet gaze made her sink even deeper into her seat, her gaze thoughtful as she flickered through her life. “I- I'm not sure, to be honest.” 

Kate shrugged. “We got time.” 

That wasn't true. That wasn't true even on a normal day, and even less now that they were dealing with another MCI. 

For a moment, she considered going back to the floor, taking care of Triage with Langdon or - if she got lucky - sneaking into the Trauma Rooms to work with Robby and Abbot. 

But then, she realized her hands were still shaking, even if much less than a few minutes before.

So, she didn't leave. 

She stayed.

“It's always really hard for me to make friends,” Trinity admitted after a moment. “I've had friends, of course, I even had a best friend once but… when I started working here I never really thought I was going to find friends.” 

Kate smirked. “Obviously, that wasn't true.” 

Santos mirrored her smirk, although sheepishly. “Mel was actually my first friend here. She kinda ignored all my attempts to drive her away, something I still don't understand. Then, one Thrusday she came up to me and asked me if I wanted to go to her place for dinner and a movie.” 

“Which movie? You better have good taste, Santos.” 

“Oh, I have the best taste,” Trinity retorted without thinking, smiling when Kate giggled. “But Becca, that's Mel's sister, actually chose. She was having a major rom-com obsession at the time.”

“Go on then. Which movie?” 

“...I don't wanna.” 

“C'mon, Santos.” Kate's voice turned pleading. “Don't make me beg.” 

Trinity gulped. She was so not ready for everything Kate was making her feel. “We watched ‘The Family Stone’.” 

“Shut up, I love that movie!” Kate's face lit up in excitement and Trinity couldn't help but watch in complete awe, her hands finally stilling as the other woman's presence proved to be a calming balm. 

When she realized she had been staring for far too long, Trinity cleared her throat, rubbing the back of her neck as she looked down towards her lap. “Yeah, I hadn't actually seen it? But yeah, Becca knew every single line of that movie and whenever Mel would laugh it would be so genuine and loud and it made me laugh. And just… I didn't have to do anything, you know? I could sit there, eat tacos, enjoy the warmth of that room and just… be. You know?” 

“Yeah, we're very lucky when we find our people, aren't we? Those people that make everything feel like it's gonna be okay. I'm really happy for you.” Kate was gentle, her eyes closing as she could almost hear their laughter and chatter, the smell of the tacos, the warmth of the room and the people. Hearing a cheerful giggle, Kate opened her eyes, smiling when she noticed the little girl in her arms was awake. “Yes, my darling Susana! Everything is going to be just fine.” 

Watching them, Trinity felt herself smiling, even as a wall she had built within her a long, long time ago, crumbled.

Yeah, Kate was right.

Everything was going to be just fine.

oOo

It had taken a lot, a lot, to get his mom to let him go to the protest.

And usually, Jake wouldn't have fought as much as he did. Jake had always been a chill kid, someone who was more than happy to go with the flow, someone who would watch older kids having fun and going to parties and festivals, wanting to be just like them.

After Pittfest, everything changed.

Of course, some changes had been tangible, direct, the kind of obvious that used to cross his heart with a shooting pain. Still did, on the bad days.

After Pittfest, his leg was never the same. 

After Pittfest, he pushed away the one father figure he had ever known.

After Pittfest, he had to bury his girlfriend.

But there was something else. Because Jake, up until that moment, had been a kid blissfully ignorant of the horrors of life, and of the factors that allowed those horrors to happen. After Pittfest, as he lay on that hospital bed, scrolling through the photos of him and Leah, having sent his step dad packing, Jake had come to the cold, cold realization that up until that moment, he had been privileged and very, very unaware of it.

And more than anything, Jake had grown painfully aware that this world - this cruel, hurtful, fucked up world - was his. To live in, to grow old in, to change.

The changes started happening almost subtly, as silently as the sun dawned through the horizon.

Whenever his mom turned on the news, he found himself watching with her instead of disappearing into his room. At school, he found himself eyeing the Political Science groups with interest, when he would have ignored them in the past. Online, he found himself looking up and following media outlets he had never been interested in before.

Months passed, welcoming people into his life that were loud, opinionated, and the best friends he had ever had. Months passed, and the pain receded, slightly and silently as the tide backed away from the sand and back towards the sea. Months passed, his life changing in ways he hadn't expected. 

And then, the ICE raids started happening, quickly escalating across the entire country. 

Now, his mother and Robby had had many conversations with him across the years, so he knew much about bias, discrimination and racism - enough to recognize it in others.

Eight years ago, seven years ago, Jake had been too young to understand what was happening. So it was this second time, when he was older and more aware of his surroundings, that everything he had learned about bias and racism stopped being theoretical concepts and became examples happening around him every single day.

It had taken a lot to convince his mom to let him go to that protest. At the end, he'd had to argue that just because something wasn't happening directly to him - to them - didn't mean they couldn't be empathetic. Didn't mean they didn't have a responsibility to stand in solidarity with those afraid of their lives changing drastically, those that were humans deserving of decent lives, just like the rest.

The last thing Jake remembered from the protest was the police arriving. 

And screaming.

A lot of screaming.

Jake was only aware he must have been waking up - which meant he had at some point fallen asleep or, well, fainted - because the pain was slowly coming back, coursing through his leg and chest so sharply he felt as if he was being burned alive.

“How is he?” 

Those three words - small, simple - felt like a miracle. As Jake realized with relief that his hearing was working, his other senses came back with a bang, making it easier to focus on something other than the pain.

The loud chaos around him, a chaos he had long become accustomed to after hanging out with Robby at the Pitt too many times to count.

The strong smell of antiseptic and the light blanket covering him.

The warm, reassuring weight surrounding his right hand. 

“Stable. He hasn't woken up but. Stable.” Jake felt himself eagerly looking for the owner of that voice, even if he couldn't open his eyes just yet. “You did a good job stitching him up.” 

Jake felt himself calming down. Robby had always made it feel as if everything was going to be okay. He had missed that.

“Tell me something I don't know.” Jake recognized that voice. Dr. Abbot, Robby's friend that used to sneak him the best snacks from the hospital's machine when Robby wasn't looking. “And you?” 

Jake heard a shuddering breath, followed by a tighter grip around his right hand.

“I need to never see Jake on a hospital bed, ever again. This will actually kill me one day.” 

Dr. Abbot chuckled. “I imagine this is a father's worst nightmare. Seeing their kid hurt. Robby, he's going to be fine. Keep it in your head, he's going to be just fine.” 

A long silence followed, enough that made Jake worried they had left him.

Then, “You surprised he was at the protest?” 

“Not at all.” Robby's voice was hoarse. “And I'm so fucking proud of him, Jack. I'm so fucking proud.” 

“You taught your kid well. Well, mostly Janey. God knows you're an absolute bastard first and foremost.” Jake really wished he could open his eyes to watch Robby's reaction, but sleep was starting to pull him under. “Anyways, Shen and Ellis are already here and we mostly have non-criticals. I'll call you if I need you but until then, stay with your son. If I see you out there, I'll bench your ass for the next month.” 

Jake never got to hear Robby's reaction. Sleep had already pulled him into its gentle embrace.

It didn't matter though.

His dad would be waiting for him whenever he woke up.

oOo

“What do we got?” Collins called as she walked into Trauma One, snapping a pair of gloves on as she did.

Ellis looked up briefly from her place by the patient's head before nodding in Javadi's direction. “Go on, Javadi, present.” 

Javadi straightened even as she startled slightly, gulping nervously as Collins approached the bed. 

“Lara Machado, 45, victim of a bean bag shot to the clavicle. Obvious fracture to the collarbone, plus bruising to her ribs and legs. Minor lacerations to her arms. She's brought in unconscious but her vitals are stable.” 

“Excellent presentation,” Collins stood by the opposite side of the bed. “X-ray?” 

“Already in line for imaging, I'm immobilizing her neck in the meantime.” Ellis replied without looking up from the patient as she placed the cervical brace securely. “Javadi here is going to take care of the patient's lacs while we wait for imaging. With my careful supervision, of course.” 

“Wouldn't dream otherwise, Dr. Ellis.” Collins dryly replied with a roll of eyes. Ellis shot her a playful smile before resuming her work. “Thank you for coming in early.” 

“Wouldn't dream of being anywhere else,” Ellis replied as she straightened, taking off her gloves and making a ball with them before shooting them into the bin by the corner of the room. “This is bullshit. This is so fucking bullshit.”

“That’s one way to describe it,” Collins sighed, her gaze on her patient. “Did anyone else come with her?” 

“Not yet,” Javadi shook her head, looking up in slight panic after a moment. “You think she was there alone?” 

“It isn't advised,” Collins explained. “Even if you go to a peaceful protest, the recommendation is that you go with someone else. If you can share your location with a friend, that's also really useful. Who knows, though. Maybe she's there alone.” 

“Maybe,” Ellis’ voice was even. 

The two senior residents looked at each other, a silent communication exchanged. If your skin was other than white, if your language was other than English, then life was really fucking hard in their country. 

They could only hope their patient had it better than most, and that she'd wake up soon.

As if their thoughts were more powerful than they could have hoped to preempt, at that moment Samira walked into the room with an expression much too calm.

“By any chance, is this Lara Machado?” she asked almost with a whisper, her body still. Too still.

Immediately, Collins was alert. She walked towards Samira, subconsciously putting herself between Lara and the door leading to the rest of the ED. “Why?” 

Samira buried her hands in her pockets. Her arms trembled slightly. “ICE is here.” 

oOo

“What’s going on here?” Collins asked as she walked towards the ambulance bay, Mohan and Ellis following her.

Slightly a few feet away, Shen and Santos exchanged a worried glance, an incoming car making them get back to work after a moment of hesitation with one last glance towards the group gathered by the door. 

“I was telling these gentlemen that this entrance is for patients only,” Ahmad began as calmly as he could, even as he rested his hand on his sheathed gun.

One of the officers shrugged. “You closed the other entrance so we're going to go through here.” 

“Get Abbot,” Collins murmured in Ellis' direction, watching her leave for a moment before turning back towards the two officers. “Excuse me, why do you need to go inside?” 

The second officer raised an eyebrow in her direction. “You are?” 

Collins bristled. “Chief Resident of the Emergency Department of PTMC. Again, what's your business here?” 

“We want to speak to Lara Machado,” the first officer intervened in a tone that left no room for arguments. “We understand that she was brought here after sustaining injuries during today's protest.” 

‘And who was responsible for said injuries?’ Collins wanted to ask but knew better than to directly aggravate ICE officers. Thankfully, she'd memorized the protocol for dealing with them front to back. “I'm sorry but under HIPAA regulations I'm mandated to protect doctor-patient confidentiality.” 

“We just want to talk to her.” 

“Have you brought a warrant?” Collins asked in return. Lara wasn't exactly in a place to talk and even so, she wanted to avoid allowing the officers inside the Pitt for as long as she could.

The officers exchanged an expressionless glance before one of them took a folded piece of paper from his pocket, slapping it onto Collins outstretched hand with barely held aggression.

Collins took a quick peek, innerly deflating with relief. “This isn't signed by a judge.” 

“It's a warrant.” 

“It still isn't signed by a judge,” Collins returned the paper calmly as she straightened her shoulders, trying to make herself as tall as she could. “My apologies, but you cannot go inside without proper documentation.” 

The effect was instant.

“What's your name?” one of the officers asked, taking a menacing step towards Collins as the other lowered his hand towards his gun, Ahmad reflecting his movement as he grabbed his walkie-talkie to call for reinforcements.

Collins took a step back, putting herself between them and Samira. From the corner of her eye, she could see Shen making his way over, Santos still triaging even as she kept one eye on the scene. 

And then, the doors opened behind her.

“What’s going on here?” Abbot demanded as he stalked his way outside, Parker a step behind him.

“These two gentlemen want to come inside but haven't brought the proper warrant,” Collins replied, never taking her eyes off the officers. She refused to show fear, even as they stood before her in full military gear while she's in her scrubs and hoodie. “I was explaining they need proper documentation.” 

“Who says?” The first officer retorted. He turned towards Abbot expectantly, as if he's sure to comply. “We're just here to talk to one of your patients, that's it.” 

“PTMC follows a strict policy when it comes to patient confidentiality,” Mohan interjected as she sidestepped Collins, in order to stand beside her. “We cannot release any sort of information or allow you inside without proper documentation.” 

The officers turned from Abbot towards Samira, opening their mouths to speak, when they frowned almost simultaneously. “Are you filming?” 

Samira didn't lower her phone from its place slightly hidden by her thigh. In fact, she raised, aiming straight towards the officers’ face. “It is my constitutional right to gather evidence and record this entire interaction. As we said several times already, it isn't your right to go inside. I suggest you take your leave.” 

“Give me that,” the officer snarled, making a move to snatch that phone from Samira's hand.

And suddenly, he found himself face to face with Jack Abbot.

“As my doctors have explained many times before,” Abbot hissed, his voice a dangerous whisper. “You are not allowed inside without proper documentation and this hospital is not forced to give any information on any of their patients. You can either take your leave or I can have security escort you out. Your choice.” 

Collins watched as the men stared at each other, tension so tight it seemed as if everything would snap and explode if anyone dared to move a muscle. 

Slowly, she took a step forward, putting herself again between Mohan and Ellis and the officers.

If everything was to explode, she would make sure none of her doctors was harmed in the process.

A long, eternal moment. One in which none of them dared to breathe.

And then, the officer took a step back.

“Let's go.” 

For a moment, they all watched those two men leave, silence King as all of them struggled to even find the words to describe what the fuck had just happened. 

Abbot was the first to turn back towards the ED. “Back to work, everyone. Mohan, you're with me.” 

The rest watched them leave in stunned silence, all aware of Abbot's barely held anger. Then, Ellis whistled. “I need to start coming earlier more often. This is like better than the drama I'm binge-watching.” 

oOo

“Dr. Abbot?” Samira questioned as they spedwalk past gurneys, pained patients and exhausted medical stuff. Influx of patients was definitely slowing down, and their injuries were for the most part no severe so Samira deep down knew they wouldn't be missed for five minutes. Still, she cast a guilty glance back towards the floor. “Where are we going?” 

Abbot didn't reply, his steps long and powerful as he stalked past the floor and towards the on-call rooms by the far side of the ED. 

“Abbot,” Samira began again, her voice now laced with frustration as she attempted to reach him, only for him to open one of the on-call rooms and usher her inside. “What’s going on?” 

Jack closed the door behind them, resting his forehead against the cheap wood before finally, daring to look at the beautiful woman standing by the middle of the room. “What the fuck was that?” 

Samira bit her lower lip, her brows frowning in confusion. “What are you talking about?” 

“That stunt you just pulled.” Jack was trembling, his face even paler than usual as he hissed. “Recording them. Aggravating them. Do you have any idea of what could have happened to you?” 

Samira scowled as she crossed her arms before her chest. “I'm a woman of colour living in the US, Dr. Abbot. Of course I know.” 

“That’s not- fuck,” Jack cursed as he rubbed a hand across his face. Even as she bristled in pure offense, Samira couldn't help but blink in surprise. She had never seen Jack like this. “They could have taken you into custody for standing in the way, you know that right?” 

“Collins was there too. Ahmad was there too,” Samira retorted. She took a step closer towards Jack, her posture defensive. “You gonna scold them as well?” 

“Ahmad was doing his job.” 

“And Collins?” 

 “Collins is Chief Resident.” 

Samira laughed humorlessly. “So just me? I'm the only one in trouble?”

Jack looked up at that, his gaze boring into hers. “No. Not in trouble.” 

Samira's voice lowered angrily. “Then what?” 

“I-,” Jack started, words clogging up his throat as he looked around the room helplessly.

And as Samira watched him, she couldn't help but let go of her anger. She had an inkling on where he was coming from - she's the most brilliant resident of their ED for a reason, after all -, but that didn't mean it had stopped being an overwhelming, overpowering feeling, knowing someone out there cared for her as much as Jack did.

Through Pittfest, through entire text threads in which they discussed their favourite movies on a random Tuesday evening when they couldn't sleep, through shy smiles shot across the ED, through mindless, comforting calls whenever either of them had a bad shift.

Through a heartfelt hug on top of the PTMC rooftop only a few hours before, and the feeling she had found a home away from home.

Through all of that, they had become a team.

And Samira wasn't about to let him alone. Not then. 

Not ever.

“Jack,” Samira whispered, her voice softer. She knew it worked when his gaze snapped back to her. “What’s going on?” 

Jack stared at her for a second, desperately looking for something.

What he was looking for, Samira didn't have a clue. She still stood frozen, because she desperately hoped he would find the answer somewhere in her. 

Jack ran a hand through his hair, chuckling lowly as he stared at Samira. 

Then he cursed before stalking across the room, not stopping until he was right before Samira, a breath between them. 

“You're the only one I saw out there,” Jack whispered softly, tenderly cradling Samira's face with his hands before resting his forehead against hers. “I walked out there and I saw you and I was so, so fucking scared something would happen to you.” 

“I'm okay,” Samira spoke softly. She rested her hands on his cheeks, smiling to herself as she felt his stubble. “Jack, I'm okay.” 

“He almost grabbed you.” 

“He didn't.” 

“My heart fucking stopped.” 

“I'm okay,” Samira whispered. She dropped a small kiss on the bridge of his nose before resting her forehead against his again. “Sweetheart, I'm here and I'm safe, I promise you.” 

“Samira,” Jack breathed enveloped her with his arms. He buried his face against her neck, shivering when Samira buried her hands in his hair. “Love, you're so fucking brilliant and brave. So fucking powerful. You're going to be the death of me.” 

Samira couldn't help but giggle, even as she felt tears gathering in her eyes. She felt so cherished, so cared for, so loved, that it felt as if her soul was finally healed. “I can't promise that will be the last time but I could allow you to protect me. In exchange for something, of course.”

Jack hummed, tightening his hold around her waist. “What’s that?” 

“That I get to protect you in return,” Samira replied, smiling nervously when Jack straightened, blinking in confusion as he locked eyes with Samira.

“You want to protect me?” 

Samira shrugged. “We're a team, right? That means equal partnership, Dr.Abbot.” 

Jack exhaled a laugh. “I don't think anyone's ever wanted to protect me.” 

“Get used to it,” Samira deadpanned, beaming nervously when Jack merely evened her with a soft look. “But also, I happen to be slightly in love with you, so I'm really gonna need you to be okay with my terms.”

“I accept those terms, then.” Jack leaned into Samira, nuzzling his nose softly against hers. His voice was absolutely wrecked. “I'm absolutely in love with you as well so, gorgeous, I don't think I could deny you anything even if I wanted.” 

“Oh, stop being a tease.” Samira whispered against his lips, whining when Jack moved his head away, only to blush when he slowly kissed his way to her ear, leaving a flaming, tingling trail across her jaw. 

“I don't think I'll be able to stop after one kiss,” Jack whispered against her ear, his hot breath almost making her knees buckle. 

“Good,” Samira breathed as she grabbed his face, bringing it back towards hers. “I won't be able to stop either.” 

Chapter Text

“Hey, Whitaker, you got room for one more?” Mohan asked as she rushed into the Yellow zone, occupied gurney in tow.

“Sure, why not?” Whitaker retorted without looking up, swiftly wrapping up a deep cut in a patient's thigh before moving to the next patient, who was nursing a broken wrist. “What’s the story?” 

“Oh, you know. The price of living the American Dream,” a deep, male voice replied instead, making Whitaker turn in haste.

“Michael!” He exclaimed after a moment, bypassing Javadi and McKay to reach their newest patient, completely ignoring Mohan’s surprised expression in the process. “What happened!?” 

Michael Krakozhia - also known as the Kraken, though no one had referred to him as such since Pittfest - managed to shoot Whitaker a small yet genuine smile, even as he winced when Mohan carefully palpated his right arm. “We weren't doing anything wrong man but they came in and they threatened us but we wouldn't leave so… it was chaos. Absolute chaos.” 

“Radial pulse strong,” Mohan interjected. “Let's wrap up the wound and control the hemorrhage until we can get him to x-ray for more imaging.” 

“The bullet grazed me,” Michael admitted, voice hissing through his gritted teeth. He turned towards Whitaker. “I really hate to say I was lucky, because it hurts like a bitch but I think the bullet grazed me.” 

“We'll fix you up, you're safe.” Whitaker assured the older man, taking over wound care from Mohan. “It is nice to see you, Mike, circumstances aside.” 

Michael huffed a deep laugh. “Nice to see you too, doc. Think you can give me my monthly dose, you know, since I'm here?” 

“We'll consult with Psych, see if we can get that for you.” Being done with wound care for the moment, Whitaker moved on to start an IV to get antibiotics and painkillers into the patient. He nodded his thanks when Jesse joined him. “I was supposed to see you next week, are you residing at the alley?” 

“No, actually.” Michael cleared his throat, his face reddening as he looked down sheepishly at his lap. He barely noticed the needle poking into his left arm. “I was going to come in next week, let you know I found a shelter.” 

“That’s amazing,” Whitaker beamed. He patted Michael’s shoulder in a friendly manner as he finished hooking up the IV. “I'll make sure to write the address down so we can add it to our usual run.” 

“It's a really good thing what you're doing, your street team,” Michael began, his shoulders dropping as the painkillers took effect. “That’s what we need. Solidarity, empathy, unity. This shit about blaming each other for the world's problems, hating each other, this is all so fucking useless.” 

Whitaker nodded slowly, his eyes downcast as he rechecked Michael's wound. 

The young med student thought of his parents - mostly his dad - who voted for what was happening in the country, and who wholeheartedly agreed with it. He thought of his siblings, all of them older than him, all of them indifferent to the protests and the violence, because it didn't affect them directly.

He thought of having to see them again, especially after finding people - family - so different than them.

He thought of it all, and could only swallow heavily, his gaze on his patient and friend's shoulder. “I hear you.” 

“This happens over and over again. We let hate win, we let some powerful man tell us how to think or who to blame. We harm each other, over and over again, until we do better. Until we choose peace and we say to ourselves that this will never happen again.” Michael shook his head. “What the fuck is the point of all this hate? Who the fuck wins at the end of the day?” 

For that, Dennis Whitaker didn't have an answer.

oOo

When Jake finally opened his eyes, Robby was staring right at him.

“That’s creepy,” Jake muttered, his voice rough as he struggled against his dry throat. “That’s really creepy.” 

Now that he was awake, a barrier seemed to have fallen in Robby once more, making him straighten in his seat as he pulled away. “Sorry. I- sorry. How are you feeling?” 

“My head is killing me,” Jake grinned despite himself. “We need to stop meeting like this.” 

Robby fidgeted in his seat, his hands tightly clasped on his lap. He didn't return his smile. “Please.” 

Jake watched him for a long moment, suddenly realizing that Robby wouldn't take the first step.

Not because he didn't want to, Robby was probably desperate to take that step and fix things. Not because he was too coward or weak to do so because, if Robby was something, that was a man willing to do anything and everything for him.

Robby was going to wait for him, Robby was going to let Jake take that first step, because he had always left Jake in charge of their bond. How close they were, what moments they shared, with which things did Jake choose to trust him, Robby had always been clear in that Jake was to have all the power, and that the older man would never force him to anything.

With other people, Jake would have hated that. With Robby, he appreciated it. 

If Jake had never had a choice when it came to the bond and the love between him and his father - wherever he might be - he always had that choice when it came to the bond and love between him and Robby. 

Jake had always appreciated that respect and consideration.

“Remember the first time I came in and hung out with you and Dana after you and mom broke up?” Jake finally spoke, finding out that it was much difficult to speak candidly when your father - in all ways that mattered - stared at you after months of going no contact. He dropped his gaze to his hands, only now realizing how bruised they were. “I was really worried something was going to be different, that you weren't going to like me as much or something.” 

Robby's voice was soft, almost a whisper. “You never told me that.” 

Jake shrugged uncomfortably. “I never told anyone. Anyways, I realized very fast that what you had with mom was very different to what the two of us have. That day, I remember I came in with this skate mom bought me, and I was really excited to show it to you-.” 

“I was furious,” Robby interjected, laughing softly as he shook his head. “I was terrified something would happen to you so I forced you to give it to me until I could talk to your mom.” 

“I was so pissed, I remember sulking at the nurses station with Dana, waiting for mom to pick me up and ignoring you when you tried to talk to me.” Jake shook his head. He really needed to stop hurting others for trying to take care of him. “And at one point I went to the bathroom and you and Shen walked right after. I don't think you noticed I was there but I was listening to everything. He made a joke about how you needed to lighten up.” 

“I remember, he was on his first rotation with us during his intern year.” If Jake didn't know any better, he would have said Robby was actually nervous as he rubbed his neck. “I talked to Jack during shift change about rotating Shen to nights for a week, making him learn a thing or two from the retired soldier.” 

“You said you appreciated his words but that he wasn't about to tell you how to parent your kid.” Jake added, watching as Robby refused to meet his eye. “I didn't think you saw me like that.” 

Robby cleared his throat in an attempt, a poor and futile attempt, of recovering his voice. When he spoke, however, it was as rough as Jake had ever heard it. “I always thought that. Even if you didn't… even if it wasn't mutual, I always saw you as my kid.” 

“It took me a long time to realize what a dad is supposed to be. Maybe because I always had such a good, dependable example in my life. If anything, that's on you.” Jake laughed, his smile widening when Robby cracked a smile. “You were always the guy that took my skate because he was worried I would get hurt and didn't care if I got angry. You listened to me and played videogames with me - no matter how boring you found them. You helped in every bake sale and school function I had. You let me blame you for the worst day of my life, even when you had nothing to do with it.” 

As Jake spoke, his voice growing hoarse with emotion, Robby's smile was growing, even as his eyes were filled with tears. 

Neither of them were too concerned about those, however. Sometimes it is good to cry.

“I love you kid,” Robby could only say once Jake paused in the form of a deep breath. “You're my kid and I'm always going to love you, even if you hate me.” 

“You're my dad,” Jake replied shakily. “I'm so sorry it took me so long to see it.” 

And as father and son fell into each other, melting into an embrace that spoke for months - no, years - of silenced feelings, thoughts and love, this author asks that the reader do their best not to worry. 

After all, sometimes it is good to cry.

oOo

As Langdon walked out of the elevator, Walsh in tow, he blinked as he realized things were much calmer than he expected.

“Is it…over?” Langdon asked slowly, wincing when Walsh punched his shoulder.

“Watch your mouth,” Walsh hissed. Langdon was very quickly remembering why Walsh was actually the one he was terrified of the most. “You are a senior resident, Langdon, do I need to teach you what happens when we say an ED is anything but fucking chaotic?” 

Langdon couldn't help but smirk. “Technically, you just said it.”

Walsh turned towards him, staring at him with a disapproving expression, her arms crossed before her chest.

After a moment, Langdon looked down. Sometimes, looking Walsh in the eye felt as if he was staring at Medusa herself. “Okay, I'm sorry.” 

Walsh sighed. “Thank Athena I'm never having kids. They would turn just like you.” 

Langdon frowned. “Thank…Athena?” 

“You think I'm thanking God? Please.” Walsh snorted before punching Langdon again in the forearm. “It's good to have you back, Langdon.” 

“Thank you,” Langdon stammered, his gaze wide. He watched the surgeon stalk away like a Queen strolling past her subjects for a moment, running towards Central the moment he was assured he was safe.

With relief, because things do turn out well sometimes, he spotted a familiar face the moment he was close to the nurses station. “Dana! Dana, I just took our last Pink Zone patient to the OR. Where am I needed?” 

Dana didn't even look up from her tablet and for a moment, all Langdon could see was the orange vest she was wearing. Only the lack of a bruise was what kept Langdon from traveling to a day he did not want to think about. “Do you mind getting Shen and Ellis inside? It's been fifteen minutes since we got our last protest’ patient, mostly Yellow Zone. We can use their help getting the rest of those patients stable, maybe even get Day Shift out of here in time.” 

“You believe in miracles now, Dana?”

“Of course I do. I still believe one day you'll come and say something clever, don't I?” 

Langdon hung his head with a snort before turning swiftly on his feet, heading towards the ambulance bay with renewed energy. “Oh, I have missed this, Dana.” 

“I know you have, son-I-never-wanted.”

oOo

“Hey, Cap wants us to head back inside,” Langdon called as he stepped outside, burying his hands in his pockets in a poor attempt at fighting off the cold. 

Shen frowned in confusion, pointing weakly in the direction of the nearest ambulance before turning fully towards Langdon. “What are you talking about? Robby is right over there.” 

“What?” Langdon echoed, squinting as he stepped beside his fellow doctors. After a moment, he recognized Robby's trademark cargo pants peeking through the opened back doors of the rig. “No I…Dana, I meant Dana.” 

Shen nodded calmly. “That makes much more sense.” 

Ellis snorted. “Who else did you think it was going to be?” 

“Do you think we can go a day without you going after me for something I said?” 

“I don't know, you think we can go a day without you showing your utter lack of intelligence?” 

“Hey, why is Robby there? Is he okay?” Langdon interrupted, his gaze still on his boss. 

Ellis sighed. “Heard his kid was brought in. First patient too, it took Robby out of the game.” 

Shen rubbed his temple in a tired fashion. “I mean, can you blame him? And after having to treat him on Pittfest too.” 

Langdon startled, looking at Ellis with barely held panic. “Wait- Jake!? Jake's here?” 

“He's okay,” Ellis quickly reassured him. “Abbot treated him himself, he's going to be just fine.” 

“Fuck, this is fucking insane.” Langdon rubbed his eyes for a moment, silently gathering strength. Then, he nodded with resolution as he took a step forward. “Okay, go inside, see if Abbot needs help with anything. I'll get Robby.” 

As Frank walked forward, slowly, hesitantly, as if he was stepping on eggshells, he couldn't help but feel as if he was floating. Maybe it was the nerves, maybe it was the haunting, dark ghost that was the memory of the last time he and Robby stood on that ambulance bay on their own.

It didn't matter. 

Sometimes, the details, the reasons, didn't matter. Sometimes, they lost focus - relevance - in comparison to the big picture.

The big picture being the fact that Frank Langdon walked towards Michael Robinavitch- his boss, his mentor, his former friend - knowing for a fact he wouldn't survive what was to come as the same man. 

Just like the last time they stood in that fucking ambulance bay.

“Hey,” Frank began as he neared Robby, not wanting to startle him. “Dana is saying we don't need anyone in Triage, I got Shen and Ellis back inside.” 

“Right, great. Thanks.” Robby looked up at him, offering a small smile. After a moment, he hung his head once again, a sigh deflating his entire posture. 

“Is… is Jake okay?” Langdon asked after a moment, shifting his feet nervously as he fought off the cold.

“Yeah, we need to get him to x-ray as soon as possible but he shouldn't need surgery.” Robby let out a long breath, the air coming out of his mouth in a puff of white smoke. 

Langdon nodded, lips pursed together as his gaze drifted towards the doors that led to the ED, to the rest of his chosen family, to his Mel. 

All of that, to remember that Robby was still part of that chosen family. Even if he wasn't a friend, even if he wasn't someone he necessarily liked, he was someone he loved.

Cursing inwardly, Langdon didn't go back inside.

He continued walking forward, sitting beside Robby in that ambulance. (And if he held his breath the entire time, that was for him to know and for literally no one else to speak about so shut the fuck up, will you? Thanks!)

Oh, his therapist was going to be so fucking proud.

He fucking hated it.

“When my children get older, I will take them to the protests. I will teach them that their voice matters, especially when they are using it to help someone that needs it more. I will teach them everything I know, and watch them go on without me when I'm no longer cool enough and they'd rather go with their friends.” Frank paused with a snort, equally endeared and terrified of the teenage versions of his kids. “And every single day, every single lesson, every single protest… I will be terrified. Proud, yes. And terrified. So, so terrified.” 

“You think you ever stop feeling like that?” Robby asked after a moment, his voice hoarse.

Langdon shook his head, even as he took a second to think of his answer. “I think we get better at dealing with it. But no… no, I don't think the fear ever stops. They're the best things in our lives, aren't they? It makes sense we're terrified of seeing them hurt.” 

“I don't know how to get used to it. To watch them go on, stumble, fall, let them pick themselves back up.” Robby laughed what Frank secretly called his Winnie Pooh laugh. He felt his lips stretching into a smile despite himself. “It's fucking torture, it really is fucking torture.” 

“Congratulations. You're a dad.” 

“Cheers, Langdon, you really couldn't be more welcoming?” 

Frank laughed, shaking his head fondly as he lowered his gaze towards the floor. Almost without his notice, he allowed silence to grow between them. 

Now, I hope the reader remembered that amongst many things, Frank Langdon came back that day to PTMC as many things, one of them being an expert when it came to silence. 

Silence was his friend. In silence, he could figure out things. Silence told him things that he didn't discover anywhere else. Silence was his ally, his companion, and one of his worst nemesis.

In that moment, silence came to Frank without his notice.

So, this author suggests we all forgive Frank - who was never the brightest bulb in the box, if we're being fair - if it took him a second to realize that when it came, silence came with a gift.

Forgiveness.

Peace.

Frank took a deep breath, the cold air somehow giving him the bravery he needed. Then, he turned towards Robby. “I'm sorry.” 

Robby instantly shook his head. “No, stop.” 

“I stand by what I said this morning. The way you spoke to me wasn't cool. As your resident, I deserved more,” Frank caught himself as he felt his throat clogging up with unshed emotion. He looked away, perfectly aware that Robby was staring at him. “But as my attending, you deserved more from me as well. And as my friend- as someone I thought was my friend, I will never forgive myself for what I said to you. For breaking your trust, for triggering you the way I did, I will never forgive myself. I'm so, so sorry.” 

Robby cleared his throat, nodding slowly as he rubbed his reddened eyes. Then, he looked away as well. “You planning on breaking my trust again?” 

“No,” Langdon shook his head, slightly horrified by the idea. “I'm… I'm taking it a day at a time, you know? But therapy is working and I found an NA group I actually like and I have a meeting with a potential Sponsor next week and I will never break your trust again. Yours, or my kids, or Abby's or Mel's. Or my own.” 

Langdon watched as twin tears rolled down Robby's exhausted face. He watched as Robby, who had once felt ashamed for breaking down, did nothing to wipe them off. He watched as Robby met his gaze with nothing but calmness.

“I can't forgive you for everything. That's not my role,” Robby began softly. “What I can forgive you for, I do. I'm so sorry for the way I handled it. Most of all, I'm sorry you think you don't have a friend in me.” 

“I'm sorry you think you don't have a friend in me,” Frank echoed. After a moment, he looked down rubbing his watered eyes with a laugh. “And fuck you for making me cry, Robby, I did not agree to this.” 

After a moment, he felt a hand on his shoulder, a hand he was slowly recognizing as supportive once again.

“Welcome home, Frank.”

Chapter Text

Frank reached the room silently, his breath held as he realized he'd arrived just in time. 

Mel was sitting crosslegged before her desk, street clothes discarded in favour of a pair of comfy, warm pajamas. 

Her movements were slow but not really focused, as this was a dance she'd memorized, because she had done it many, many times before. 

Her watch came off her wrist first, resting on the desk next to her work ID. Then came the leather bracelet Becca got her the last time they had a fair at the Center, followed by her glasses. Lastly, her fingers rose towards her hair, letting it go from the messy braid she'd done when they got home and letting it fall around her face in a golden haze. 

It was the dance of a Queen used to standing strong before her subjects, only allowing herself to be her most vulnerable under the cover of darkness, in front of only her most trusted people.

Frank watched it all as he leaned against the doorframe, and felt as if he couldn't breathe, in the best sense possible.

He loved her. Oh, how he loved her.

He was so, so fucking lucky to love her.

Chapter Text

Around them, the chaos hadn't really evened out. If only, it had heightened, the team intent on settling the dust caused by the MCI before the waiting room filled up again, before they started receiving traumas again, before Pittsburgh had any chance of burying them with patients.

The devil never rested.

And neither did an ED.

Whitaker looked around the room, his head hurting from even such a small effort. It was very clear the adrenaline was leaving his body so he gave up, resting his face on the wooden counter around the nurses station with a groan. “So…that happened.” 

54 patients had come to the ED, none of them ending in the makeshift morgue that was once again Peds. Most of them non-criticals, but nursing orthopedic injuries that had placed them in line for surgery. 

All of them had come in in pain, frightened, worried about the future. Especially considering the context of what happened and who was responsible for most of them ending up in the hospital in the first place, most of them had had a lot of concerns, a lot of questions, and needed a lot of handholding. 

Whitaker couldn't help but be proud of himself and the rest. If the exhaustion he felt coursing through his bones meant anything, he truly felt they had made a difference. Even if they hadn't managed to help outside that cold ED, they had certainly helped inside and that, that mattered.

Again, he couldn't help but think of what his parents would have thought of him helping Michael Krakozhia, or of Collins stopping the ICE from entering the ED, of Mel helping the pneumonia patient with the single mom who worked multiple jobs to make ends meet, of Santos offering Langdon grace even when he hadn't asked for it, of Mohan treating a patient with an UTI with the same care she treated the red zone patients that came into the ED during the last hour, of Javadi treating Minu's injury with grace.

He thought of the price he paid by choosing this life for himself. The people he lost.

He thought of how glad he was to have lost them, as sad as it was.

To his immediate right, Javadi sighed. Her ebony hair had slightly fallen out of her formerly tight ponytail. “I want to say this again: you are all insane for choosing Emergency Medicine.” 

To her right, Santos snorted. She rested her forearms on the counter before hitting her index fingers against the wood in a rhythm only she could hear. “Grow a pair, nepobaby.” 

“Of balls? Ew, no thanks.” 

“Agreed, but, whatever.” Santos rolled her eyes before leaning forward to grab one of the water bottles resting on the desk before her. Then, she glared at the woman directly to Whitaker's left. “I still maintain this was all Langdon's fault.” 

Mel frowned, turning to look at Santos as well. “Do you have proof?” 

“I've worked two shifts with the asshole and in both everything went to shit.” 

“That’s a very logical theory, Dr. Santos. You are a woman of science, yes?” 

“Bite me, Barbie.” 

“So, I see Trin's still hyped up in adrenaline.” Mohan cheerfully sipped from an apple juice box by her place on Mel's left. Then, she glanced carefully at the other four. “How about the rest?” 

Mel shrugged. “I actually have a fast metabolism, I don't need much rest.” 

Santos covered her mouth with a hand. Her eyes crinkled with wicked amusement. “I'm sure Langdon loves that about you.”

“Trin!” Whitaker grumbled, scandalized. Beside him, Javadi simply looked disgusted.

Mel blinked. She removed her glasses from her face, placing them on top of her head, but the rest of her posture remained unbothered. “I'm literally asexual.” 

“So?” Santos shrugged. “Asexual people still can want to have sex.” 

“Wait,” Javadi interjected. She leaned forward on the counter to be able to look at Mel with her wide, chocolate eyes. “Are you and Langdon a thing?” 

“No,” Mel calmly replied. She then nodded in the direction of the chaotic lesbian of the group. “Santos simply is obsessed with the idea of pairing her friends off.” 

“Ouch, the kitten has claws!” Santos cackled. She banged her hands against the wood, jumping excitedly on her feet when both Mohan and Whitaker startled. “As if you and Wannabe Chris Pine didn't want that too, Melissa.” 

“Wait,” Javadi interrupted again, her gaze thoughtful. She lowered her head as she turned around, so her body was directed towards the ED. Her eyes roamed slowly around the floor as her thoughts were slowly paired together. “So, Mel is with Langdon.” 

“Mel is not with Langdon,” Mel countered. When no one acknowledged her, she turned towards Mohan in confusion. “Am I invisible?” 

Mohan shrugged, rubbing a hand comfortingly against her shoulder. “Leave them be, sweetheart. Protect your mental health.” 

Javadi pointed distractedly at Trinity. “And if Santos and Kate are a thing-.” 

“We are not a thing,” Santos clarified, her gaze quickly going around the ED to make sure a certain social worker wasn't close enough to listen.

“Yet,” Mohan interjected, smiling innocently when Santos glared at her.

“Not for lack of trying,” Whitaker quipped in turn, smiling pleasingly when Santos snorted loudly, almost spitting the water she'd just sipped. 

Javadi frowned at them before nodding at Mohan. “All I need is for you to tell us that you and Abbot finally got their shit together.” 

Mohan stuttered. It was almost unfair, how stunning she was when she blushed. “Well, I-.” 

“Oh, you got to be fucking me.” 

“Language!” Mel scolded Javadi before smiling brightly in Mohan's direction. “Samira, that's amazing! When did this happen?”  

“Um, a few hours ago? After ICE left, we… he took me to an on-call room and we might have kissed,” Mohan cleared her throat, slightly breathless as she felt her body heating up from the memory. “A lot. Like, a whole lot.” 

“That’s hot,” Whitaker nodded in approval. “Also, thank you for the mental image, Mohan. I might need to burn my eyes out now.” 

“This is amazing!” Mel squealed excitedly. “We need to hang out soon so we can hear everything!” 

“What did I just say?”

“Oh, shut up, Whitaker, nobody cares what you say.” Santos snapped jokingly before nodding proudly in Mohan's direction. “All due respect to Dr. Robby but you got the silver fox of the ED, and I say that as an absolute lesbian. Well done, Mohan.” 

“So earlier today, we were lonely as fuck and now, suddenly everyone is paired up with their dream person?” Javadi demanded. She crossed her arms with a huff. “You're telling me it's only Dennis and I left?” 

Whitaker opened his mouth to argue, his face suddenly too red, but Mohan intervened before he could, her voice gentle.

“Oh, darling, it will come.” Mohan shrugged. “Whoever is meant for you will happen to you sooner or later.” 

“That is such an annoying thing to say to a single person,” Victoria argued. “Is this happening to me because I'm the only straight one here?” 

Trinity snorted. “A straight claiming heterophobia to a bunch of queers. That one is new.” 

Mel frowned. “Didn't you just say Whitaker was also single?” 

Whitaker opened his mouth again, his face redder than before, when Mohan raised a hand.

“Wait, if I'm bisexual, Dennis is gay, Trinity's lesbian and Mel's ace, that's the L, G, B and A filled,” Mohan smiled in excitement. “We're only missing the T, Q and I for the full acronym!” 

“Do you think we could ask Robby to add that requirement when he's hiring?” Mel suggested with genuine curiosity. 

“What should we call ourselves?” Santos asked in return. “Alphabet Mafia?” 

“The Rainbow Pitt? Pride Vanguard?” Whitaker added with a snort. 

Mohan started giggling. “Robby's Group of Queer Orphans and Fucked Up Kids?” 

They were all laughing when Mateo suddenly joined them, smiling at all of them even as his gaze was set on the youngest of the group.

“Hey, Victoria.” Mateo began, glancing with hesitation at the four doctors surrounding the med student. 

Mohan smirked at him, while Santos stared at him with barely held judgment. Mel's glance was polite, yet skeptical, while Whitaker looked at him with a mix of pity and doubt.

Mateo couldn't help but mentally compare them to vultures, waiting for the best moment to attack. This author deems it a proper comparison. Still, the young nurse was brave enough to continue, which bought him a couple of brownie points. “I brought you a juice box.” 

Javadi looked at the box, before glancing at Mateo, taking notice of his hopeful gaze.

“Nope,” Javadi raised her hands in denial. She stalked away, shaking her head the entire way. “Nope, nope, nope, absolutely fucking not.” 

“What..is she mad at you?” Mateo asked the remaining foursome, blinking as he watched the med student walk away.

“Nope, she's mad at you.” Trinity's smile was downright wolfish.

“What!?” 

“Best of luck, Romeo.” Trinity patted his shoulder in what was supposed to be a reassuring motion, but ended up being more mocking than anything else. “I have a feeling you're gonna need it.” 

“You got this, okay?” Mohan said as she followed Santos away from the nurses station. “Just be honest.” 

“And know we'll hunt you down if you ever hurt her,” Mel added with a grave expression before she too left.

When Whitaker followed Mel without nothing but a sad shake of head in Mateo's direction, the nurse stood alone, absolutely dumbfounded in the middle of the chaos that was the ED.

“...What the fuck just happened?”

oOo

“Okay, as you know I'll be working from one pm to one am for a little while,” Abbot was explaining as he turned on the coffeemaker, intending to make a brand new batch for him, Ellis and Shen before they had to leave the break room to treat the patients already filling the waiting room. “I want to stress this is temporary and that I will stay and help if you guys need me but I'm not worried. You two are great doctors and an even better team. I know you're building really good relationships with our new kids as they do night shift rotations. You are going to be fine.” 

Abbot turned as the old, barely functioning coffee maker started dripping the much needed coffee into the pot, sighing at the sight he encountered.

By the table nearest to the kitchen counter, Ellis was sitting on one of the chairs, her arms crossed as she glared at Abbot with passion. Beside her, Shen remained standing, his gaze nervous as it flickered between the other attending and the senior resident.

Slowly, he started to smirk. “So… is the duel happening now or…?” 

“I cannot believe,” Ellis stressed, her gaze on Abbot even as she pointed in Shen's direction so harshly she almost pushed him away. “That you're leaving me with him!” 

Abbot rolled his eyes. “Yes, because you two are going to be the only two left in the ED. Think, Ellis.” 

“That’s funny,” Ellis snorted humorlessly. She turned towards Shen. “Papa Abbot is abandoning us and dares to make a fucking joke.” 

“...Papa?” Shen blinked slowly. He then frowned at Abbot when the older attending didn't react. “She calls you Papa?” 

Abbot shrugged. “Ellis's the daughter I never wanted. I don't mind.” 

“This is the end of an era,” Ellis moaned mournfully. “I will actually cry.” 

“Hey, were you a theater kid before choosing medical school, by any chance?” 

“Bite me, Shen.” 

“Not even in your wildest dreams, sweetheart.” 

“Okay,” Abbot intervened before it could escalate into a proper fight. Yes, it had happened before. No, he refused to expand on that. Sometimes, those two really felt like his kids. “Ellis, what will it take for you to stop pouting?” 

Ellis cocked her head thoughtfully. “Are you asking for my terms? Anything I want?” 

“Careful, Ellis.” Abbot crossed his arms, his expression an attempt of actually being severe with his second favourite resident for once.

Ellis’ smirk widened into demonic proportions. “I want two months of free take out for dinner.” 

“Two weeks.” 

“A month.” 

Abbot rubbed his temple tiredly. “Done. We ok here then?” 

“Not so fast,” Ellis held up a hand in a too smug manner. “I want you to promise right here and now we'll always be your two favourite people to work with.” 

Shen snorted. “He can't do that. Mohan is his favourite.” 

“Wanna say that again?” Abbot challenged, flexing his forearms in what was an attempt to be threatening. 

Shen huffed in amusement. “What, your hearing aid isn't working, grandpa?” 

“Thank God I never had any kids, they would have turned exactly like you and then I would have had to deal with four of you,” Abbot couldn't help but smirk when both Shen and Ellis laughed. “Fine. You two will always be my favourite. Happy now?” 

“Yes, thank you Papa Abbot. Besides, Mohan is in a whole league of her own so I'm not bothered by her,” Ellis shrugged calmly before looking up at Shen. “It's like you and Mel, John.” 

Shen snapped his neck so fast in Ellis' direction he almost twisted it. “What did you just say?” 

“You have been carrying a torch for her ever since you two worked in that measles case, don't pretend to be stupid.” 

“He isn't pretending,” Abbot quipped, raising his hands in surrender when Shen glared at him. “You make it so easy, Shen.” 

“Some father you are, Abbot.” 

“Also,” Ellis was intent on ignoring the other two. “You have been trying to work more day shifts since that day. Go on, fess up.” 

“I don't have a thing for Mel. She's just a friend.” Shen rolled his eyes. “Besides, even if I did, which I don't, Mel has been smitten with Langdon since day one.” 

“That’s true,” Ellis muttered thoughtfully. She nodded in gratitude when Abbot handed her a mug filled with coffee before looking up at Shen with renewed focus. “If it isn't Mel, then you're interested in someone else.” 

Then, something happened that had never happened before.

John Shen, Junior Attending, Unbothered King of the Ed, whose veins ran with Dunkin’ Iced Coffee instead of blood, blushed. 

Ellis cackled in triumph. “Oh, I fucking got you you absolute loser. Tell me who it is!” 

“I'm not telling shit!” 

“Oh, c'mon dude, this is the best thing that has ever happened to me!” 

“Some sister you are, Ellis, get the fuck away from me!” 

As silently as he could, Abbot left the break room, heading back to work while shaking his head fondly.

As a father to his work kids, he had learned many things.

One of them was knowing when to step in and when to leave them to their own devices.

He just really hoped they wouldn't kill each other. They were already understaffed as it was.

oOo

The worst thing about Adamson's death was that the world still kept moving.

The hours still passed, the patients still came in. His team still looked to him for guidance - guidance during a moment in which the world seemed to be over, guidance during their grief, guidance as they were fearful of losing anyone else to an illness that seemed to be sweeping away with everything and everyone. 

When Adamson died, so did a part of him.

When Adamson died, Michael Robinavitch gained a ghost.

Because ghosts are not only the scary creatures we're told of as kids. Ghosts are the love still kept locked inside of us, love we have no chance of using because its recipient is gone. Ghosts are memories, Ghosts are friends. Ghosts are sadness, locked up grief. Ghosts are the shadows of the people we love who are long gone.

Robby didn't mind his Ghosts. Adamson wasn't the first and he wouldn't be the last, after all. He was so used to them, to their company, to their shadow, that he didn't fear them. Not anymore. He wasn't sure he had ever feared them.

No, that wasn't the worst.

The worst is that he couldn't stop. The world didn't allow him to stop. He couldn't stop thinking, he couldn't stop making decisions, he couldn't stop controlling his emotions, making sure he was still the person keeping their ED - haunted and ransacked as it was - somewhat together.

When he turned off the machines that kept Adamson with him - barely, and not in any way that mattered because he was already gone - he allowed himself ten minutes. Ten minutes to cry, ten minutes to grief, ten minutes to be not a doctor, not Dr. Robby, the fearless leader that looked COVID in the eye and didn't back down - but Michael, the broken man who was so, so fucking done. 

Ten minutes to say he loved him.

Ten minutes to say thank you.

Ten minutes to say he forgave him.

Ten minutes to beg for his forgiveness.

Then he was swept away back into the hectic, unforgiving, hostile pace of the world. 

Sometimes, late at night, when he got back home, alone, exhausted, cold in a way he felt it even in his bones, as if there was no fire in the world able to warm him… on those nights he would sit on his couch, move the blankets Frank had left folded when he went to work and look outside. He would look at the city around him, more silent than usual now that most were in quarantine, and wonder whether he was also a ghost.

When was the last time he felt alive? When was the last time he breathed without wanting everything to be over? When was the last time he walked through life without nursing the pain of everything he had gone through? When was the last time he had worked, saved, lived and actually cared about anything but wanting to make it to the end of his shift? 

When, when the fuck, had he stopped fighting? When the fuck had he stopped caring about his lack of fight? 

When the fuck would it end? 

His phone ringing, its tone obnoxiously loud, especially in the dead silence of his apartment, made Robby startle out of his tortured daze. 

He grabbed it from his pocket, his heart stuttering in his chest when he saw the ID Caller. 

When he met her, Heather was… Heather was the force he had been waiting for his entire life. Around her, Robby felt alive, he felt filled with a fire he had never felt before. Heather was brilliant, she was proud, she was stubborn, she was relentless and she was the best person he knew. 

Robby was so in love with her that it hurt. He was so in love with her that he truly wondered how he had lived before her. He was so in love with her he finally understood all of those authors and songwriters and poets that had created masterworks by simply allowing themselves to be embraced by the brilliance of their love. 

Not that he would ever try to mimic them. God, that would be a tragedy to art. 

Now, six months later, Robby still felt the same. He was pretty sure he would always feel the same when it came to Heather Collins. She had come into his life with a bright mind and a brighter smile and she had stolen his heart. His heart was hers and he would never ask for it back. He never wanted to have it back, not if it meant taking it from her hands. 

But everything else had happened. 

The pandemic happened. The quarantine, the overflow of patients, the anti vaxxers, the fear, the exhaustion, the loss, the grief, the loneliness, the lack of touch, the lack of empathy, the lack of a barrier against the darkest of his thoughts, thoughts that were making everything so, so dark around him.

And Heather… god, she was everything. She was so beautiful and so bright and then, even then, she felt like the sunrise after the worst of nights. 

But he was still stuck in the dark.

He was a ghost, he was bonded to the night. 

He was a ghost, and she was the sun. 

He was a ghost, and it hurt to be near her. 

Still, he swiped his thumb over the screen, accepting the call. As if he would ever deny her anything.

“Hey, you okay?” Robby spoke into the phone, one of his hands cradling it to his ear, the other rubbing his face tiredly. 

“Yeah, I'm fine. It's my day off,” Heather replied. Her voice was soft, but distant. Since Adamson's death, it had only grown more distant. “How are you?” 

Robby hesitated. How could he answer? What could he say? How could he be a truly good partner, when the last thing he wanted to do was tell her the truth?

What did it mean, if she could understand him better than anyone and still, letting her in hurt so much he felt he was cutting himself open? 

“Fine,” he finally replied. He buried his face in his hand, his body trembling in frustration. “I'm fine.” 

It was as if he could feel her disappointment. It was there, palpable, tangible, more real even than him, a ghost. Still, he couldn't care. Not enough to do anything different. “Mike, don't lie to me.” 

“Why wouldn't I be okay?” 

“Because nobody is! The world is fucking exploding, how could anyone be okay!?” 

“Then why are you asking me?” 

“Mike,” Heather's voice was biting, hurt. Robby immediately wanted to apologize. He stayed silent. “I know everything is horrible. I still deserve more than this.” 

Robby wanted to laugh. Wasn't that the truth of the fucking century? 

“You do, Heather. You really deserve better.” 

For a long moment, silence ensued, so long that Robby had to turn his head towards his phone to make sure she hadn't hung up. 

He could have said something. He wanted to say something. 

What, though? 

That he loved her? She knew that. It didn't change anything. 

That she was the best thing that ever happened to him? It felt like mocking her, especially as he wasn't even sure that he was something good to her. 

That he would be a better partner? He couldn't even promise that, not in good conscience. He barely knew how to be human at that moment. 

He didn't say anything. He left all his words, all his feelings bottled up. It wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last time.

He didn't say anything. 

Heather did. 

“Mike, I love you.” Heather began. Her voice was shaky, quivering with the same emotions Robby was keeping tightly locked up. “You know I love you but… I can't do this anymore. I don't know how to be your partner right now. I don't know how to keep working in this fucked up world with a partner that is barely here. I'm so sorry.” 

“I know, Heather,” Robby whispered. He closed his eyes. No tears came. Every feeling was still locked in, even then. “I get it. You deserve so much more.” 

The conversation ended soon after that. It made sense because sometimes, sometimes words weren't needed. Sometimes, to start something, to say goodbye, to love, to grief, all that was needed were feelings.

This author has a feeling the reader will understand them, and the pain they felt.

And Robby, Robby didn't know much about feelings. He was a ghost, remember? 

But he did know about words.

Only, he voiced them when the phone call had long been cut off. Because he was a ghost, tied to the night, meant to haunt, meant to be haunted, and Heather was the sun. He couldn't be close to the sun.

So, he voiced those thoughts into the night, into the cold, into the silence. Only for his ears and the ears of his fellow ghosts.

“I love you. Thank you. I forgive you. Please forgive me.”

oOo

“Hey, how is everything going here?” Collins asked as she knocked on the glass door, walking into the room with her gaze lowered to her tablet. “Any discomfort or pain? Imaging still isn't back but - oh.” 

Collins frowned, looking between the empty bed and the sleeping attending, tucked in in what had to be an incredibly uncomfortable position, his mouth slightly opened as he snored.

Collins couldn't remember the last time she'd seen Robby sleeping.

She remembered the first, of course. 

It happened the first time she'd stayed over for the night. They had planned a chill date - the kind of date they favored, because it allowed them to be on their own, comfortable, surrounded by the warmth that was the care and love they felt for each other.

So, movie and takeout had been the plan. Robby had waited for her at his place, Chinese - her favourite - laid on his coffee table, candles lit and an unopened bottle of wine waiting for them.

They had eaten while telling each other about their patients, the best cases they had that day, Ahmad’s latest proposed bet and whether Shen or Langdon were going to become the ED's most-flirted-with doctor (Robby was convinced patients flirted much more often with Shen than Langdon, simply because Shen didn't wear a wedding ring. Collins was pushing for a secret third option, arguing Abbot deserved the crown).

Once the food was eaten, plates left in the sink to be dealt with in the morning, they had settled with wine and a box of chocolates in front of the TV, playfully wrestling over the remote as they argued over the movie they should watch.

The movie was quickly forgotten in favour of a heavy, hot make out session on the couch, their bodies pressed against each other as their hands roamed free, their touch a reminder that they were there, alive, and together after such a long time in which they feared their relationship would never happen. 

As Robby lifted them both off the couch, grumbling playfully when Heather giggled at the way his knees made a cracking noise at the effort, Heather felt herself desperately wishing they would always be like this. 

Desperately in love. Insanely happy. Two souls forever bonded. 

The next morning, Heather woke up first. 

After recognizing where she was, she closed her eyes again, stretching deliciously, her smile widening as she recognized the arm tightly wound around her waist, the pressing of the beloved body behind her.

Slowly, her movements calculated, her breath held, she managed to turn in his embrace, shivering as her bare chest pressed against his. 

She had never seen him so relaxed. His eyes were closed, his mouth slightly opened as he breathed deeply and evenly, his cheeks slightly flushed. His body was warm, his presence familiar to her, as reassuring as a homecoming. His touch, even in his sleep, even with him miles away in his dreams, was one of her favourite things in the whole world.

Heather allowed herself to explore, having free rein for the first time since they started this relationship. She ran her fingers delicately through the wrinkles around his eyes - formed after so many years of laughter and so beloved to her. Her fingers then traveled down the slope of his nose, her smile widening when it twitched slightly under her touch. 

Her smile bled from her lips when her fingers traveled to his lips, her heart filling with so much love she felt as she was going to burst. Without being able to contain herself, she dropped a lingering kiss on his lips, smiling against him before caressing his nose with her own. She sighed, closing her eyes as she buried her face into his, their breaths joined, their heartbeats aligned in a beautiful symphony.

Heather Collins was no stranger to uncertainty. In fact, uncertainty had screwed up her life so bad that she had come to hate it. She had grown up doing her nest to make sure that would never happen again.

She had changed her major, kept a tight leash on her finances, kept her head down and done her job to the best of her abilities.

Choosing Robby was the first time in years she had taken a path that wasn't the secure one.

But Robby…Michael was secure. Michael was a man that was ready to risk anything for her. Michael was a flawed man, a man that knew he had a lot of ghosts but he was still ready to fight them all in order to be deserving of her. 

Michael sometimes said he was surrounded by darkness.

Heather secretly believed that if he was surrounded by darkness, then he was the moon. Silver, beautiful, and the hopeful light that kept everyone fighting even under the worst of circumstances. 

And Michael, Michael was the best person she knew.

As Heather faded into a dreamless, beautiful sleep surrounded by the man she loved, she couldn't help but wish they would always be like this.

Because she wasn't afraid of the dark. She had always loved the night, she had always laid in the bed and marveled at the beauty of the moon. 

She loved him.

God, she was so lucky to love him.

Heather didn't know it yet, but that was one of the last truly happy memories they had before the world exploded.

Now, years later, with so much history between them, Heather watched Robby sleep and felt her heart clench. 

Because even after he gave up, even after he stopped fighting for her, after all the pain and loss and hurt that came with trusting a man that didn't trust her, not enough, the truth of the matter was that she still loved him.

God forgive her, he was too dark for her, too haunted, too much of a ghost, and still… still, her heart was his.

He had come into her life, stolen her heart and she never, never wanted it back.

After taking a deep breath, Collins walked towards the cabinet to her left, grabbing the thickest blanket they had before carefully wrapping it snugly around Robby's frame. She hesitated, her hands still on either of his shoulders, before reaching up and slowly running a hand through his hair.

He looked so tired. She hated it.

He looked older. She knew he hated it. She didn't. She loved his face. 

“Thank God he fell asleep, he looked exhausted.” 

Heather startled to her feet, her eyes wide and her smile too bright as she turned towards Jake, who stood in the doorway to the bathroom with a too smug expression on his face. “Hey! How are you feeling? Any pain?” 

“Nah, the stuff you guys gave me worked like magic,” Jake replied, wincing when he took a step towards the bed. He nodded gratefully when Heather rushed to help him. “I just want to sleep until mom gets here, really.” 

“You should, today has been a very long day.” Heather arranged Jake's pillows carefully before tucking him into the bed, rolling her eyes when Jake shot her an angelic smile. “Can I get you anything else?” 

“I would tell you to get him out of here but I know he isn't done with work so just maybe make sure he gets to sleep for a little while? I'll keep an eye on him.” Jake turned towards Robby, smiling at the sleeping mountain of a man.

Heather nodded with a smile. She ran a hand through Jake's hand before taking a step back. “Copy that. I'm really glad you two worked things out. He missed you, kid.” 

“I missed him, too.” 

“I'll get out of your hair,” Heather continued as she headed for the door. “Let me know if either of you need anything, okay?” 

“...hey, Heather?” 

With one hand on the doorknob, Heather turned towards Jake with an expectant expression. “Yes?” 

Jake smiled knowingly. “I know Robby is really complicated but… maybe tell him you still love him? I know he's still in love with you and he's in therapy now, did you know that?” 

oOo

“Hey,” 

“Mel!” Kate grinned as she looked up from her cellphone. She glanced down at her other hand, which was holding a lit cigarette, before frowning anxiously in Mel's direction. “Sorry, do you mind if I smoke?” 

“Yeah, actually I- I don't really like the smell if I'm being honest,” Mel admitted before raising her hands in a peaceful manner. “I can go back inside if-.” 

“Oh no, please! It gives me an excuse to quit - apart from my health, but that's irrelevant.” Kate quickly put off thr cigarette, shooting a brilliant smile in Mel's direction before the doctor could even think of feeling bad. “How are you doing?”

“Oh, I'm good. I-.” Mel paused herself, shaking her head slightly before shrugging with a shy smile. “I'm exhausted, actually, but I'm alright.” 

“I can imagine,” Kate stretched her arms above her head with a sigh. “Is every day like this?” 

“Oh, no! You just were really unlucky to start with us on a really, really horrible day.” Mel laughed. She also stretched her arms behind her back before burying her hands in her pockets.

“That’s a relief,” Kate chuckled. “You are a really good team. Only a team like this one could deal with the patients, the broken families, the chaos as well as this one did.” 

Mel wrapped her coat tighter around herself. “You dealt with many of those families? Before?” 

Kate raised an eyebrow in interest. “Like which one?” 

“Like that kid McKay treated.” Mel's gaze drifted away, away from Kate, away from that ambulance bay, away from the present. “The asexual kid.” 

“Oh! Yeah, I guess. I actually focused on queer kids during my first job. The repressed kid with the homophobic parents that still lives somewhere deep within me needed to do that work, if I'm being honest.” Kate smirked as she wrapped her leather jacket tighter around her, though she didn't seem much affected by the cold. She looked towards the starry sky with peace in her eyes. “There's something really rewarding about being a voice for those who feel silenced, you know?” 

“Absolutely,” Mel nodded before hesitating. “You… do you subscribe to a label in particular? Please ignore me if the question makes you uncomfortable.” 

“Oh, no worries! I guess I'm bisexual?” Kate shrugged. “But it's like, labels are tools, you know? So I'm not obligated to use them if they aren't useful to me. And sexuality is a fluid concept, therefore I've always struggled being tied to a label or group in particular.” 

Mel clenched her hands, still hidden in her scrubs’ pockets. “I get it. I really do.” 

Kate's smile turned understanding, even if she didn't look at Mel. “Can I ask if you subscribe to a label in particular?” 

“Oh! I'm asexual,” Mel replied. It was a relief to realize it was getting easier to come out, even to people she'd just met. “Which, I know is an umbrella term but I'm not really sure where in the spectrum I fall, so that term is more than enough for me, you know?” 

“I don't think you have to know if you don't want to.” Kate closed her eyes, her head still tilted upwards. “If you know what your asexuality means for you, I think that's much more valuable. Labels are for you to describe yourself if you need to, not to make it easier for anyone else to understand you.” 

“Don't they make things… complicated for you, though?” 

Kate giggled. “Oh, definitely. The biphobia is very much safe and sound, unfortunately. I realized very fast, though, that the people who were going to make things complicated for me for being bisexual, were going to do so no matter what so, why would I try to help them?” 

“I realized I was asexual last year,” Mel admitted after a beat. “I always knew there was something there I wasn't seeing but I was never much interested in dating so I wasn't too bothered. And I struggled finding representation, I think, which I think made it even harder to come to terms with my identity.” 

Kate snorted. “You're preaching to the choir. There isn't enough representation as it is, and there's even less good, proper representation. What made you realize you were asexual?” 

Mel smiled. “Becca, my sister, got this book from her best friend at the Center she's at. It's called Loveless, by Alice Oseman?” 

“Oh, yeah, excellent book. Also, I'm kind of jealous that your sister let's you borrow her stuff. My sisters would never.” 

“Well, have you ever lost or broke their stuff?” 

“...Shut up.” 

Mel giggled. “Are they queer too?” 

“They haven't said anything but it wouldn't surprise me if either of them came and told me they were.” Kate rolled her eyes. “As an older sister, you really get used to your siblings stealing everything from you, even your place as the queer one in the family.” 

“They are heathens.” 

“Thieves.” 

“Menaces to the society.” 

“But they're everything,” Kate finished with a soft smile. “They are really everything.” 

“Were they cool? When you came out to them?” 

“Oh yeah! They told me they were proud of me, only to immediately start telling queer jokes. My parents refused to acknowledge the fact that I could be attracted to someone other than a man but, it's not like they're still alive to hurt me further. Your sister?” 

“My favourite queer joke was when she sent me a picture of a bottle of virgin oil and asked me when I had turned into a dressing. She then went into a rabbit hole so that she could know as much as she could about Asexuality. She started asking me questions I didn't even have an answer to,” The pair laughed, Mel removing her glasses as merry tears rolled down her cheeks. She watched her breath fogging up in the cold air for a moment, reassured by the peaceful night. “I didn't really come out to anyone else until I started working here.” 

“Really? Why is that?” 

Mel found herself looking at Kate, strangely emboldened by her question because she knew that it came from a place of genuine curiosity, not one of judgement. 

“It's really weird that people love talking about sex, even with people they've just met, but they don't tend to be really open-minded about it. It's like, as a 28-year-old woman, I have to want to have sex. If I tell people I haven't had sex in my life, I'm a freax and I'm broken.” Mel sighed.

Suddenly, she felt defeated. By society, by the place she had, by the role that was expected of her, all of that clashing with the fact that she really, really wanted to make a difference for herself and others like her.

But, why was that fair? 

She was a caretaker. A sister, a doctor. A woman. A person with a life, with people she loved and people who loved her. Why did she, on top of everything else, have to be the change she wanted to see in the world? 

Why didn't the world, why didn't society acknowledge the responsibility they had to be better, to include everyone else as they deserved? 

And, if we're speaking honestly, was there any point in asking herself these questions? 

Maybe not.

But Mel was still exhausted, so Mel would still ask. Someone had to ask.

“Somehow, the idea that I'm just not interested at all in sex isn't a reason enough. I'm not broken, I'm not traumatized, I did find who I think might be the love of my life. I still do not feel sexual attraction. I'm happy, I'm fullfilled, my life is fullfilled. Why am I not enough, only for not wanting the same things the majority wants?” 

Kate edged closer, her gaze pensive. “I think it's really hard to be different in a world that hates different. But I think that we are the best parts of this world. By making our lives, building communities with people who love and understand us as we are, communities in which others find companionship and love in a world filled with hate. We are necessary, and we are worthy of a peaceful, loving life.” 

Mel blinked at her, suddenly swifted to a similar scene, only inside, that happened four months ago.

“This is a hard place for sensitive people. But we need them.” 

Mel smiled. Oh, how she loved him.

“You know, Kate, I think we're going to be great friends.” 

Kate smirked. “I love the way your mind thinks, Dr. King.”

oOo 

“I need your help.” 

Cassie snorted, not looking up from her station as she frantically typed into her chart, intending to be done as soon as she could so she could go home to her kid. “Do you now?” 

Mateo plopped into a seat beside her. Even not looking at him, Cassie could sense his desperation. It amused her to no end, not that she would say it out loud. “Cassie, please. Victoria is mad at me and I don't know what I did.” 

With a sigh, Cassie turned towards Mateo. “Do you honestly need my help?” 

Mateo looked at her as if she'd grown a third head. “Um, yeah!” 

“Then I'm going to need you to actually use your head because you do know why she's angry with you. Everyone and their mother knows why she's angry with you.” 

Mateo frowned. “You're enjoying this.” 

Cassie snorted. “Of course I am, you deserve it.” 

“But why!?” Mateo was absolutely scandalized. He looked around, making sure no one was listening to them, before he turned again towards Cassie. “Cassie, c'mon, I'm desperate. I really like her and I don't want to lose her.” 

Despite herself, she felt a smile lifting her lips, her gaze softening even as she still focused on her chart. 

Ah, damn it. She still liked love, even if she didn't believe in it. 

“Can I name my price?” 

Mateo lit up with hope. “Anything.” 

“Two weeks of babysitting. Paid, of course, because I'm not a heartless monster.” 

“Done. I love the little man, anyways.” 

Cassie's smile grew more genuine. If she had to choose a reason why she loved the people she worked with, she would have to choose the love they showed Harrison. 

“Okay,” Cassie began after a moment. “You're going to have to tell her what you feel.” 

Mateo blinked. “That’s it?” 

“She has shown her feelings very clearly. You haven't, and that has started to frustrate her. If you like her, you need to be a brave little boy and tell her.” Cassie turned fully towards Mateo and pinched his cheek with a smirk. “I know you can do it, little Mateo!” 

“Oh, fuck off.” Mateo slapped her hand away, his scowl deepening when she cackled. He stood from his chair, stalking away as he exclaimed, “That was not worth two weeks of babysitting!” 

“If only you had used that brain you have for a reason!” 

oOo

When Heather walked out the elevator and back into the ED, she smiled as she walked into Dana restocking one of the emptied crash carts. “Hey! There's just no keeping you away from work, huh?” 

Dana looked up, rolling her eyes playfully before focusing again on her task. “There's one hour left in the shift. Bridget came earlier, thank god, so I'm going to wrap this up as soon as I can and I'll be out of here come seven.” 

“As you should,” Heather replied. She knelt by the box on the floor next to Dana, passing her friend the boxes so she didn't have to kneel. “You deserve to get some rest.” 

“So do you, sweetheart.” Dana looked at Collins for a long moment. “Where were you?” 

“Visiting Minu upstairs. Thankfully, she's all tucked in the surgical floor and the Plastics and Ortho teams are making a treatment plan as we speak.” 

“That’s good, I'm glad for her.” As she continued talking, Dana didn't look at her. Heather really appreciated it. “It had to be hard, seeing her again after last time. You okay, kid?” 

Heather looked up at Dana for a long moment, exploring her heart as she pondered that question. 

Was she okay?

Was there only one answer to that question? 

“You know, Minu knew I was pregnant that day. She said it always showed.” 

Dana sighed. “Honey, I'm so sorry.” 

“It's okay,” Heather replied, even as she blinked back tears.

Motherhood had to be wanted in order to be and god, Heather wanted it so much. She would always carry that grief and she would always feel like she had failed, even when she knew, deep down, none of it was her blame. 

“You know,” Heather began hesitantly. It was an idea she had been toying with recently, so she had never told anyone, not even Dana. And it was something she wanted so much that saying it out loud felt like messing with fate. “I've been thinking about something.” 

Dana's tone was as nonsensical as ever, even as she shot her a kind smile. “Yeah? What's that?” 

Heather closed her eyes.

“What if I adopt?” Heather felt Dana stop moving. She closed her eyes even tighter. “You know, when I came here I never expected I would become part of a family, but all of you heathens adopted me and I'm really, really grateful about that. So, recently, I've been thinking… there's more than one way to form a family, right? So, why don't I adopt a kid? I know it's harder for black, single women to adopt but-.” 

“Sweetheart,” Dana started as she lowered herself to the floor. Her own eyes reddened. “I think any kid would be lucky to have you as your mom. You will be such a brilliant, amazing mom, and I can't wait to see you build your family.” 

Heather felt herself pouting, growing horrified as twin tears rolled down her cheeks. “Really?” 

Dana smiled before wrapping her arms around the younger woman, bringing her into a tight hug. “You are my best friend in the whole world. You think I would ever lie to you?”  

Chapter Text

As Dana walked into the break room, she wasn't really paying attention to her surroundings. It was highly unusual of her, of course, but she was still thinking of what Heather had told her, imagining her best friend finally accomplishing the life she wanted.

Motherhood, after all, was a very complex thing. If she had learned one thing from her job, from all the different patients she had come across during the decades she had been charge nurse at PTMC or even before, during her years of volunteer work, it was that motherhood has to be wanted and all women deserve to make the choice that was best for them.

She was so, so happy Heather was finally having the chance to make hers.

This author certainly hopes the reader forgives Dana for being so unlike herself. She reckons, if she's being honest, that the context allowed for it.

So, when Dana walked into the break room, finding Langdon leaning against the kitchen counter and staring right towards the door, she jumped two feet in the air.

“Jesus fucking-,” Dana clutched a hand to her chest, closing her eyes at the sudden fright. “Kid, you almost gave me a heart attack.” 

Langdon smiled apologetically. “Thankfully, we're at a hospital?” 

“You're an asshole,” Dana informed him pleasantly as she approached the counter, opening the cupboard and sighing at its utter lack of cups. “What are you doing here?” 

“I was actually,” Frank cut himself off, shaking his head slightly before pointing to his right. There, waiting like an offer from God himself, was a cup of steaming coffee. “I made you a coffee. I assume that's what you're here for?” 

“Aw, that's nice of you kid!” Dana squeezed Frank's arm as she reached for the cup. She then looked at him in slight disbelief. “What, you trying to suck up on your first day back?” 

“No- I mean yes, but,” Langdon cut himself off again, laughing slightly as he buried his hands in his pockets. Suddenly, Dana realized Frank Langdon was actually nervous. “I had a lot of time to think while I was away and I kept thinking about our last conversation. I was an asshole.” 

Dana sighed. Her lips twisted into an understanding grimace. If she was being honest, between everything else that had happened that day and during the following month - in which she had taken some deserved time off and discussed with her family whether she wanted to get back to the job - she had forgotten about her last interaction with Frank.

She could see how he hadn't, though. If she had been in his shoes, she too would have felt like a piece of shit. 

When Dana didn't speak, Frank ran a hand through his hair before gulping nervously. “What happened to you that day was absolutely horrible and the fact that you had to stay because we needed you… I should have been there for you, the same way you have been here for me thousands of times. I'm so sorry, Dana.” 

Dana took a sip from her coffee, raising her eyebrows in surprise. “This one is actually good.” 

Frank nodded, sheepishly rubbing a hand against the back of his neck. “Yeah, I bought it? Found a market near my new place that sells all these different types of coffee and I… you had to wash your own cup that day to drink the shitty coffee this hospital buys and I was right there, badgering you with questions about me because I'm a selfish bastard.” 

Dana nodded slowly. “So this is the apology? Coffee?” 

“It could be a start?” Frank winced. “I know you deserve much more but this… it felt like a good closure moment? Maybe? Please don't hate me.” 

Dana stared at him for a moment, not so secretly loving the way he was squirming. Then, she left the cup on the counter, the sound resounding within the silence of the break room.

This absolute idiot. 

“I forgave you that night, kid.” Dana admitted as she reached to wrap her arms around his shoulders. She laughed when Frank let out a relieved sigh. “You actually think you'd be back here if I hadn't put out a good word for you?” 

Frank pulled back from the hug, his eyebrows twisted in alarm. “Dana, what does that mean?” 

Dana merely grabbed her cup, lifting it in acknowledgement before heading to the door. “Thanks kid!” 

“Wait- Dana, what does that mean? Dana!” 

oOo

“Hi, can we talk?” 

Trinity sighed from her place bent over the bench in the change room, her focus still on taking off her work shoes. “Is it necessary?” 

“I think it is, yes.” 

Trinity straightened slowly before turning to look at the woman leaning against the doorway. She pursed her lips in annoyance. “Okay, then. Talk.” 

García took a deep breath, her expression tight. “I wanted to apologize for what I said to you that day.” 

“Calling me trouble?” Trinity retorted before shrugging. “It wasn't the worst I’ve heard before. Will probably hear worse things in the future.” 

“Yes, but you're still angry about it, so I want to apologize.” García crossed her arms defensively. “And you're making it really fucking difficult.” 

“I'm making it really fucking difficult? I'm making it really fucking difficult?” Trinity couldn't help but laugh, standing with too much momentum. “Thank you for telling me how to feel.” 

García rolled her eyes. “You know that's not-.” 

“Shut up,” Trinity cut her off as she raised a hand. “Just, shut the fuck up. Because that day was fucking horrible and you were throwing me mixed signals all day. You were even flirting with me in front of Robby, you know how tricky that could have been for me, an intern on her first day, to deal with? But in any case, I thought I found an ally in you and I thought I could trust you because I didn't know this fucking place or this fucking people and I didn't know what to do!” 

Garcia sighed as she headed for the bench Trinity had just left. She took a seat, her shoulders hanging in defeat. “I was shocked. Langdon and I…we've done our residency together, you know? Him and Collins and I, we started at PTMC together and we've moved up the ranks together. I know the guy so the idea that something like this could escape me… god, it was fucking heartbreaking.”

Trinity crossed her arms, her gaze softening slightly. “It is very hard to realize our friends need help and that we've missed it. I still didn't deserve the way you talked to me.” 

Garcia nodded slowly, her gaze still focused on her shoes. “I know.” 

Trinity looked at her for a long moment, debating what to say next. Finally, she pinched her nose with her fingers, clutching her eyes tightly close before sitting besides García. “I had a sister. She was my best friend in the entire world, there was no one I loved the way I loved her.” 

García looked up slowly. “You never said anything.” 

Trinity shrugged helplessly. To her horror, she felt her eyes brimming with tears, which she blinked away in agitation. “I don't really talk about her. I still can barely think about her without crying so I don't really talk about her. It hurts, you know?”

García nodded slowly. She politely looked away when she noticed Trinity was struggling against an overflow of tears. “What… what happened?” 

“We had a stepdad. He… he hurt us in ways I won't talk about. We told our mom, which in turn made us talk to the police, and the nurses, and the doctors, and CPS and we told the same fucking story time and time again to people that felt pity for us - at best - or were downright in disbelief of our story - at worst.” Trinity couldn't help but laugh as the first of tears rolled down her cheek. For all things that people said about time and healing, her injury was one that still really fucking open. “My sister, she… she was never the same, you know? I don't, I just… I couldn't see how bad it was or how to help her, I think?” 

García was looking at her without pity, horror or sympathy. Trinity appreciated her for that. “How did she die?” 

“In the end, it was an OD.” Trinity paused. She couldn't remember the last time she talked about her sister. She reached up to release her hair from her ponytail so she would have something to do. “I understand what you're saying. I really do. And I don't blame you for what you said to me because you didn't have any way of knowing how I would react. You can't blame me for how I reacted either.” 

“I'm really sorry,” García began hesitantly. “I know it doesn't mean much but I was sorry even before you explained your feelings.” 

Trinity looked at her slowly, her big eyes slightly red. She nodded. “No, it… it actually means a lot.” 

“For what it's worth, I think you care a lot about your patients and that you're brave enough to go the extra mile for them. I think that makes you a damn good doctor,” García cocked her head when Trinity shrugged. “I mean it. I think there are some things we tend to leave without giving it the proper investigation and that you're an exception to that. We can learn a lot from you, Dr. Santos.” 

Trinity felt herself smiling despite herself. “So, you aren't mad about Scalpelgate, then?” 

“Nah, that wasn't the first time I've been stabbed in the foot,” García laughed, smirking when Trinity looked at her in surprise. “I'll leave the story for the next after hour gathering.” 

“I'll be looking forward to it.” Trinity extended a hand after a moment. She looked at García in the eye because, above everything, she was a really fucking brave girl. “Friends?” 

García shook her hand without hesitation. “Friends. Thank you, Trinity. For everything.” 

oOo

The first time Jack entered her life as something other than her attending and colleague, it wasn't through a text or a face-to-face chat. 

No, it was through an Instagram notification.

When Samira Mohan finally walked inside her apartment after that grueling shift that ended with the Pittfest MCI, she did barely paying attention to her surroundings, instead frowning at the latest notification in her phone.

jabott has requested to follow you.

They had actually stayed in that bench long after everyone else had left for their homes, chatting about the coolest cases they had seen, what had brought them into Emergency Medicine, and all other subjects they could think of.

Samira had actually already realized this, but it was still a delightful factor, the fact it was so easy to talk to Abbot.

Dr. Abbot was grave, intimidating, slightly demented when it came to the course of treatments he settled on and so brilliant at his job it was slightly daunting.

Jack Abbot was a clown. He was self-deprecating in a way that was hilarious, not sad. He freely offered stories of his most embarrassing cases, or of his first days of his time as a bumbling med student. He was thoughtful, he listened, and he was very very hot. 

Samira was well aware it was a problem.

Was Samira about to avoid him? Fuck no. Cassie had said she needed to get a life, right? 

As Samira walked into her kitchen, immediately making herself a cup of tea so she could make herself relax before trying to sleep, she left her phone on the counter, unlocked, the notification glaring at her.

jabbot has requested to follow you.

Samira wondered when he had sent that request. He had walked her to her car, clutching her hand for a moment after helping her into the driver seat, his intense gaze boring into hers. He had stood there, as she drove away, as if making sure she was okay for as long as she could.

Samira didn't even know he had an Instagram account. Believe her, she would have stalked the shit out of it if she had known sooner.

As she sat on one of the stools in her kitchen, Samira stared right back at the notification.

She had three followers in common with him: Shen, Dana and Ellis.

Realistically, she could accept the request. A follow request was nothing, it wasn't as if HR would have a problem with it. Shen and Ellis also followed him so it made total sense that she - a fellow resident - would do the same.

Then again, she wasn't following Robby and she would never follow him. That was like letting your teacher have access to your Insta profile.

Samira shuddered. Even the idea was so cringe.

Emboldened by the late hour of the night, or the tea she was taking, or even the exhaustion that wasn't allowing her to think properly - the reader is more than allowed to pick one, Samira didn't give a shit anyways - Samira accepted the request, sliding into the DMs instantly. 

samira.mohan: I didn't even know you have an Insta.

His reply came so fast Samira didn't even have a chance to panic.

jabbot: My nieces forced me to make it. They said the next step is Tik Tok.

Samira felt herself giggling into her cup of tea. The mental image that immediately went to her mind was just too good. 

samira.mohan: Oh? Need any help learning the last dances?

jabbot: Don't even joke about it, I'm terrified.

With a full belly laugh, Samira grabbed her phone and her cup of tea, heading to the couch with barely held giddiness.

She could delay her sleeping time an hour or two. Cassie did say she needed to get a life, right?

oOo

When Jack Abbot walked into the Changing Room, the last he expected was to see Santos and Javadi handing Samira money, the first two wearing twin expressions or annoyance while Samira grinned smugly.

“Do I need to report whatever this is to HR?” Jack asked, smiling despite himself when Samira turned towards him instantly.

“Don't worry, Dr. Abbot, we were just paying our debts.” Javadi replied as she adjusted the straps of her backpack. 

“Worthy, though. Look at them, they are hopeless,” Santos snorted before punching Samira's arm playfully. She hiked the strap of her bag higher up her shoulder. “I'm out here, losers. Huckleberry better be waiting for me at the lobby or I'm leaving him here.” 

Javadi frowned. “That isn't nice.” 

“Because when did I say I was nice?” 

Samira watched them go with a fond smile, her smile widening as she took notice of Jack's barely held bewilderment. “Bye girls!” 

“Do I even want to know what that was?” Jack asked as soon as it was just the two of them. He buried his hands in the pockets of his cargo pants in a poor attempt of ignoring how sweaty they had become. 

“Nothing, just a bet we made earlier today,” Samira approached him confidently, her gaze dropping to his lips. Jack felt himself struggling to breathe. “Hi.” 

Jack studied every detail of her. It wasn't the first time he had done so and he was sure it wouldn't be the last because Samira… Samira was a goddess, and he still wasn't sure how he was the bastard lucky enough to touch her. 

Her hair was out of the hair clip she favored for her shifts, her dark curls falling around her face in a mesmerizing dance. Her gaze was tired, but bright as it too studied him. Her lips were red, tantalizing, and back to its normal shape now that a couple of hours had passed since he last kissed them so hard they had swollen.

She was a fucking dream.

He was so fucking lucky.

“Hi,” Jack finally replied, his voice hoarse.

Samira cocked her head in intrigue as she took one last step forward, only a couple of inches between the two of them. “You're staring.” 

Jack immediately looked down, wincing as he felt himself blushing. “I'm sorry, I know I do that.” 

Gently, a pair of small, warm hands cradled his face, forcing him to look up and back to the woman standing before him. 

Samira's voice was soft as she took advantage of the moment to caress his cheeks with her hands. “No, I don't mind, Jack.” 

Jack couldn't help himself at that. He slowly reached down, smiling when Samira nodded slightly. He dropped a lingering kiss on her lips, sighing contentedly. “God, I don't think I will ever get tired of that.” 

“I really fucking hope you won't,” Samira joked as she dropped her hands to his neck, smirking when he shivered. She kissed him again, catching his bottom lip between her teeth and giggling when he moaned. “Hey, can I ask you something?” 

“Anything,” Jack promised. He leaned back before he did anything that would make HR fire him for being indecent, choosing instead to drop a sweet kiss on Samira's nose. “Anything, sweetheart.” 

“Why do you call me Nike?” 

Jack felt himself falter at that, his hands tightening around her waist. 

He was not expecting that question. 

Sensing his doubt, Samira's smile bled from her lips, her mouth opening as if to take her question off the table. And Jack, he could have allowed her because even if she loved him, he wasn't really sure Samira was ready for how intense he actually was when it came to the people he loved. 

Jack could have let that question fade.

But, the thing was, that he loved her. He loved her so much. Therefore, he would do anything for her if it made her happy, including embarrassing himself.

So Jack smiled shyly, one of his hands leaving the warmth of Samira's waist to run through his hair. “So, you know I started calling you Nike after Pittfest, right?” 

Samira nodded, moving her hands so she was caressing his neck soothingly. Jack felt himself melting, which was almost insane considering several more hours of work were waiting for him. “Greek Goddess of Victory, right?” 

Then again, Samira had always made him feel a little insane. 

“Yes, but she wasn't only that. She was the personification and messenger of Victory in warfare, athleticism, anything related to competitions really. She was so important that deities like Zeus or Athena had her as their usual companion.” Jack took a deep breath, lowering his gaze as he continued. “That day, Pittfest, I left here not really having a good day. I had to code a Vet for two hours, a survivor of several tours, only to end up in my ED as a victim of a drunk driver. I left and I went home and I couldn't sleep. Nothing was working to make me relax - not therapy, or my police scanner or the usual podcasts I listen to - nothing. Not until I came back to help with the MCI.” 

Samira's voice was quiet, as if her heart knew this moment was intimate, as if her soul wanted to preserve this moment for just the two of them. “I was so happy when I saw you. Everything was going to shit and Collins and Langdon were gone and Robby, he was really messed up. We really needed you, Jack. I'm so glad you were here with us.” 

“I was so glad you were here,” Jack admitted. His voice was hoarse, overcome with emotion even as he still didn't dare to look Samira in the eye. “Robby assigned you to the Red Zone with us and suddenly, it was as if I could finally breathe, I could finally relax. Samira… I really hope you know the force you are in this team. I really hope you understand how you make everything calm around you. You are confident, you are calm, and you are a presence that just makes everything so much better. And I understood at that moment, that every time I was in the same room as you, I would know everything was gonna be okay.” So, Samira, sweetheart, that's why I call you Nike.” 

For a moment, silence echoed throughout that vacant changing room, only their breaths intermingling together a sign they were alive. 

Jack felt his heart hammering in his chest, each beat almost hurting against his ribs as the seconds passed and Samira didn't say anything. His hands flickered on her waist, growing sweaty again. He didn't look up. He couldn't look up. Not when he wanted to run.

When thirty more seconds passed without the stunning woman in his arms uttering a word, Jack cleared his throat, intent on extracting both of them from the situation as softly as he could.

And that's when Samira reacted. 

She ran her hands down his neck and shoulders, resting them on his chest. After a moment, she cocked her head, forcing his gaze to meet hers. Her eyes were watery, her lips twisted in disbelief. “That’s… that's how you feel about me?” 

Jack gulped, wondering whether he could say that's how he felt about her but knowing better than to do so. He had promised he wouldn't lie to her and saying such would be exactly that. 

Because the truth was that there were no words to describe how he felt. There truly were no words. 

“I'm sorry,” Jack said instead. “I know I can be intense-.” 

“Shut up,” Samira demanded before reaching up, swooping him into a kiss that took everything else out of his mind. Suddenly, in the universe, there was just her and him. Just them, intertwined. “Just, shut up. Are you fucking kidding me, that was so hot, what the fuck.” 

“Yeah?” Jack couldn't help but smirk, laughing when Samira hit him on the cheat. 

“Yes, you asshole.” Samira kissed him again, as if the idea of waiting to do so meant as much pain for her as it did for him. “Hey, you get off at one, right?” 

“Yes, why?” 

“Wanna come over?” Samira bit her lip nervously. Jack's gaze instantly dropped to the sight. It was unfair for such a simple gesture to be so hot. “Maybe we can go to breakfast?” 

“Asking me on a date, Mohan?” 

Samira rolled her eyes. “Well, you were taking too much time so-.” 

Jack cut her off with a kiss, smiling against her lips when she sighed. “I would love to. What are we supposed to do until we go to breakfast, though?” 

“Keep that up and see what happens.” Samira kissed his cheek before finally stepping out of his embrace. Jack tried not to show just how much he instantly missed her. “Hey, will you tell Shen thanks for bringing in my keys?” 

Jack frowned. “Why did he have your keys?” 

“Oh, he lives right across the hall from my place! He saw I left my keys on the lock when I left this morning,” Samira explained cheerfully before kissing Jack one last time on the lips. “See you later!” 

Jack watched her go with a smile, a smile he dropped the moment Samira was out the door.

“Oh, shit.”

oOo

When Frank stepped out of the elevator on the Family Medicine floor, he was in slight disbelief. 

He had actually survived that day.

And it was hard. It was really fucking hard. Apologizing to Robby, Dana, Santos. Taking charge in Harry's case. Having to go to a fellow resident or Attending to have them prescribe meds for every case of his, feeling like a bother whenever he interrupted their own jobs or cases.

And it was the first day. 

He would wake up the following day and do the exact same.

And the next.

And the next.

For the next five years, his addiction would follow his every step in the hospital, his every step, his every decision as Dr. Langdon.

But actually, he wouldn't have it any other way.

Because for everything he dreaded about that day, there were so many parts that surprised him. So many parts that gave him strength. So many people who gave him grace offered their friendship.

He didn't deserve it. He was pretty sure he would always think that. 

But he would still accept it. Because he knew that if he wanted to recover and continue recovering, then he needed help.

And his kids, Abby, Mel, Robby, his family in PTMC and outside of it, they all deserved that he did the best he could to recover. 

Frank reached the nurses station, asking for Gen's room number and nodding his thanks, heading down the hall in his athletic pants, Penguins hoodie and sneakers, his color-blocked backpack securely attached around his back. 

As he reached the room he could hear several voices and he smiled when he heard the beautiful laughter that could only be Mel's but before he could enter the room Mel herself was walking out of it, closing the door behind her.

“Hey!” Mel called when she noticed him. She walked up to him excitedly. “You're here!” 

She had gotten out of her scrubs, wearing instead a pair of mom jeans, a long sleeved shirt and her trademark sneakers. Her hair was still in its work braid, her glasses precariously perched on her nose. 

Frank smiled. She had no idea of how adorable she was. 

“You didn't wait for me,” Frank accused as he reached for her glasses, placing them more securely on her nose. 

As he stepped out, he noticed her cheeks had changed into a beautiful pink, but she was speaking before he could focus too much on it. “I know, I'm sorry, Gen's mom got here a little while ago and she and Kate were talking when I left the changing room so I came up with them. Gen is doing really fine and I think she's going to do a fast recovery.” 

“That’s really good,” Frank replied. He grabbed Mel's bag from her shoulder, hooking it up to his own before nodding in the direction of the exit. “Shall we go get Becs?” 

“Yes, please.” The pair fell into step together, both of them burying their hands in their hoodies, as if they both were having trouble containing themselves from reaching for the other. “She's gonna be so excited to see you and celebrate with us.” 

Frank frowned in confusion. “Why are we celebrating?” 

“Are you serious?” Mel elbowed him in the middle, rolling her eyes when he huffed playfully. “Frank, you killed today! We're so celebrating.” 

“Do I get to choose what we're eating then?” Frank asked as he rubbed his ribs in mock hurt.

Mel shook her head. “Nope. You know that on Mondays we eat tacos.” 

“Do I get to choose the movie then?” 

“Good luck fighting Becs on that one.” 

“Ah, an evening of tacos, movies and two of my favourite girls.” Frank wrapped an arm around Mel's shoulders, melting when he felt her leaning her head against his shoulder. “Life really doesn't get better than this, huh?” 

“Hey, Frank?” 

“Yes?” 

“Stop sucking up.” 

“I'm simply telling the truth, dear.” 

“Shut up, Frank.” 

“Copy that.” 

oOo

“Yeah, mom.” Victoria spoke into her phone as she left the PTMC lobby, and headed for the parking lot, her focus on her bag as her hand went through it searching for her car keys. “I'm just leaving now, I'll be home soon.”

Night had fallen in Pittsburgh, the temperature dropping even further. It wasn't snowing yet, but Victoria knew it was meant to snow later. That represented no problem for her, considering she was going to be safe at home, warm and grieving the loss of her money to Samira. 

Her mother… her mother was a different story.

At her mom's next words, Victoria stopped dead in her feet, straightening as she managed to grab her keys. She raised her arms in defense, even with the subject of such action not being able to see her. “No, mom, I don't need you to pick me up.” 

When her mom continued talking, Victoria resumed her walking, her phone hooked precariously between her cheek and her shoulder. “Well, there's a reason I got my driver's license. I'm gonna be fine, I'll be home in thirty minutes, okay?” 

“Hey.” 

“Holy shit!” Victoria yelled, the sudden greeting making her jump two feet in the air. She looked at her sudden companion with disbelief, for a few seconds ignoring her mom speaking worriedly into the call. “No, mom, it's okay, it's just Samira, she was waiting for me and I didn't see her. Okay, gotta go, love you, bye!.” 

“I'm Samira, now?” her companion asked.

“Believe me, that was to protect you. Not that you deserve it.” Victoria looked at the man leaning against her car, his hands behind his frame, his jacket tightly wrapped around him, his beautiful hair flowing with the wind. Oh, she so hated that she found him beautiful. “What do you want?” 

Mateo straightened, looking at her for a long moment before showing her his hands. One of them was holding a bouquet of orange roses, the other a box of chocolates. “I wasn't really sure what to do to convince you not to hate me, but I figured flowers and chocolates were as good a road as any.” 

“I don't understand,” Victoria began as she walked around him, opening the driver seat of her car. There, hidden, she allowed herself a moment to silently freak out over the romantic move. Then, she stepped out of her car again. “Why do you need me not to hate you? I thought you didn't care about me.” 

“I know I made it look like that.” Mateo raised his hands in a peace, or as much as he could while still having them full. “I was just…I had that rule about not dating at work because it was just easier. And nobody I ever worked with never made me want to change it. Not until I met you.” 

“Oh,” Victoria looked at Mateo with her wide eyes, her lips opening in surprise. After a moment, she blinked, reaching to grab the flowers and chocolate from his hands. “Well, don't worry. I don't hate you. I wouldn't hate you for not feeling the same as me, I'm not a monster. Are we done here?” 

“Not really,” Mateo admitted. He rubbed the back of his neck in a nervous move. “I wanted to know if you wanted… maybe… to hang out after work.” 

“Hang out,” Victoria repeated slowly. She left the flowers and chocolate carefully on the passenger seat of her car before crossing her arms. “Like a group thing?” 

Mateo laughed awkwardly, shaking his head slightly. “Actually, just the two of us. On a date.” 

Victoria nodded slowly. Her expression was serious as she stared at Mateo. “On a date.” 

“If you wanted to.” 

“Just the two of us.” 

Finally, Victoria allowed herself to smile. “Do I get to choose what we do?” 

Mateo returned her smile. “Of course. Anything you want.” 

“I want to go bowling.” 

“I suck at bowling.” 

“Even better.” 

oOo

Until his kids were born, Frank Langdon had never been one to carry photos with him.

Frank had never been a sentimental guy. He would catch glimpses of the photos of Jake Robby kept in his wallet, or the photo of Harrison Cassie had as wallpaper in her phone and wonder why he didn't have the need to do the same. He would sit in the nurses station and study the photos Dana kept of her family or he would glance at the ring Abbot still wore, a memento of his lost family, and wonder whether there's something wrong with him.

In the end, he would always think he just preferred to live in the present. He would end his shift, go back home. He would greet his wife with a kiss and a tight hug. He would put his kid to bed after telling him a story (or two or three, while making all the voices, because he'd never claimed to be a strict parent) and then he would fall into bed with Abby, wrapped in her arms. 

In the end, he would always go back to his family. Why would he need any reminders of the love he had for them? 

When the pandemic happened, the first thing Frank realized was that he wasn't someone that preferred to live in the present. Well, maybe he was. 

But he was also someone that took the time he had with his family for granted.

So when he wasn't able to kiss or hug his family for months, when the fear of hurting the two people he loved most in the world kept him away from them, sleeping in a shitty couch in Robby's living room, it was then that he understood Robby, Cassie, Dana and even Abbot.

He too wanted to remember. 

When everything changed, when everything went to shit, because the pandemic was only the beginning of the end - at least when it came to his marriage -, Frank wanted to remember. Frank needed to remember when everything was good.

The Rehab Center Robby recommended, the one Frank ended up spending thirty days in, wasn't actually that far away from his family.

However, he did know he wouldn't be seeing them for a while. Not while Abby was busy starting the divorce proceedings. Not while he was busy building the trust he had lost.

The place he was staying at was cozy in a way that almost made him feel uncomfortable, as if he didn't really deserve such a treatment. He had his own room, the common areas were warm, welcoming and comfy. Not a single person there was judgmental and he had even made some friends.

If it wasn't for the whole withdrawal symptoms and the uncertainty of not knowing what was going to happen to his parental rights once the divorce was settled, Frank would have thought it all seemed almost too easy. Easier than he deserved. 

Frank Langdon had two favourite places in the Center, which he seeked according to his mood.

When he wanted to breathe, to walk, to move his body in a way that allowed him to do anything but obsess over what was going to happen once he got out, he would go outside, to the huge backyard attached to the house. He would walk, run once the worst of the withdrawal symptoms faded. He would lay on the grass, eyes closed, face tilted towards the sun.

When he was in the mood to sulk, when he missed his family the most, he would go to the room that served as an art studio, which he happened to know was always empty after lunch. He would sit in one of the plush armchairs and stare at the photo he had in his wallet. 

The colours had faded slightly with the years but it didn't matter, Frank could see that photo as clear as if he had just taken it. He could close his eyes and almost feel as if he was standing in the memory.

A sunny day at the park. A long, blue picnic blanket. Abby, clad in one of Frank's hoodies and a pair of jeans, her curly hair up in a bun that made her look like a gypsy queen. Millie sitting on her lap, her big smile showing the gap in her teeth, the wide skirts of her blue dress proudly spread. Tanner standing behind Abby, his chubby arms around Abby’s neck, his black hair falling floppily on his forehead, just like Frank's. 

Abby's laughter. 

Millie's shout of “It makes me look like a princess!” when she insisted she wore that dress.

Tanner's insistence they took that photo so ‘Daddy would have something of theirs at work’.

It had been one of their last good days.

“Che, pibe.” 

Frank looked up, frowning at the petite older woman standing by the doorway. Not to be fooled by her size though, for she was a force of nature, and Langdon was more than aware of it.

“I still don't know what that means,” Frank retorted, watching as his companion shifted towards the armchair opposite him. “Planning on explaining it to me?” 

“Not really,” she replied. She rested her thermos on the coffee table between them before offering Frank her mate. “Mate?” 

Frank looked at it before chuckling. He extended a hand and took the mate with a grateful nod. “You trying to make me exchange one addiction for another, Maria?” 

María blinked innocently. “Mate isn't addictive.” 

“You told me your head hurts if you don't drink mate first thing in the morning.” 

“Back home, mate is as important to us as coffee is to y'all. What, you have a thing against coffee now?” María watched as Frank drank from the metallic straw with a smirk before snorting. “Also, I don't see you refusing my treasured mate. I’ll have you know yerba is very hard to get here.” 

“I accept it because the drink is bitter. Like me,” Frank deadpanned. He gestured in the general direction of the metallic straw popping from the ceramic mate. He still remembered what happened the last time he tried to move said straw. María's reaction still haunted him at night. “Hey, what was the name of this?” 

“Bombilla.” 

“Bombilla,” Frank repeated slowly, his grin widening when María snorted. He stretched forward, returning the mate to its owner. “What?” 

María poured more hot water in the mate before replying. “It is outrageous how you yanks butcher our language.” 

“So, you are here to bully me during my hour of silent reflection, then?” Frank retorted, dread instantly filling him when María sat up in wicked enthusiasm. “No. Absolutely not. I don't know what happened or what you did but I refuse to be a part of it.” 

“What happened to young people being fun?” Maria smiled innocently. “Hey, didn't you say your wife wasn't planning on visiting you?” 

“That's right. She's not planning on staying my wife much longer either, so I'm not surprised,” Frank shrugged. He knew his rehab center's assigned therapist was concerned about his nonchalance when it came to his impending divorce but really, Frank knew his marriage was over long before the news of his addiction came to light.

Did he feel cheated over the loss of the perfect life he thought he was building? Yes, of course.

Was he worried they were hurting Tanner and Millie? Absolutely, and it kept him up at night.

Had he seen enough of this world to know they were doing the best to safekeep the happiness of their family by getting a divorce and focusing on co-parenting? Yes, he did know. 

He wasn't in love with Abby anymore and he had known that for a long time, as hard as it was to admit. Honestly, he was hopeful that eventually, this divorce would give him - and most importantly, Abby - the chance to be actually happy. 

He still loved her. She had given him a family, so she was still part of it and he would always love her. He was just sorry he had betrayed her trust.

After a moment, as if a sudden thought had crossed his mind, he sat up in his chair. His eyes widened in alarm. “Wait, María, why are you asking?” 

María poured more hot water in her mate before taking a sip. “There's a mina asking to see you in the hallway. Pretty thing, definitely too much of a woman for the likes of you.” 

Frank frowned. “I don't know who it could be.” 

“Blonde, glasses, around your age? She's wearing a braid. Shorter than you but taller than me?” 

“Because that's a challenge,” Frank laughed when María threw one of the embroidered pillows resting on the armchair towards his head. Then, he startled to his feet. “Wait, you said braid? blonde? glasses?” 

“Yeah,” María nodded. Then, she smirked mischievously. “Langdon. You naughty, naughty boy.”

“Shut up,” Frank deadpanned as he moved, stalking from one to the other of the room in agitation, his bare feet barely making a sound against the wooden floor. “That’s Mel. It has to be. Oh, this is not good. This is so not good.” 

“Who is this Mel?” 

“She's a… she's from work. I met her on the day-,” Frank and María exchanged a meaningful glance before the former resumed his pacing. “Oh, this is so not good. Can you go and tell her I'm asleep, or sick or dead? You pick which one, I'm fine with either one.” 

“Mijo, you think she would come here to hurt you or judge you?” María’s voice was gentle, unlike any tone she'd ever used before with him. That alone was enough to make Frank pause. “From what you know, do you truly believe this Mel girl would come for any reason other than care?” 

Frank stared at María for a long moment.

Deep down, he knew she's right. More than that, he had never really doubted Mel to have anything but the best of intentions. 

Before everything exploded, that day, that shift they shared had been the best he had in a while. There was something about Mel that made him feel as if he'd found a kindred spirit.

All throughout his life, he'd come accustomed to not really finding people he could connect with. People that loved him, that needed him, that wanted him around? He had been lucky to have many of those.

People he could actually connect with, people who felt as if they knew him entirely and didn't need him to explain himself? That was a new one.

Mel was a caretaker, just like him. People depended on Mel, so Mel had a responsibility of being responsible, dutiful, brilliant. Mel felt she couldn't rest, because she always had to be in charge.

Ever since the pandemic, Frank felt as if there was something separating him from his people. His wife, his kids, his parents, his family… How could they understand? The amount of people he had lost. The sorrow he had seen, in patients that would fade into nothingness, patients that would be desperate for help, doctors that would be desperate to do something other than control symptoms and manage pain. How could they understand how those years had changed him, how they still haunted him? 

It wasn't Frank's fault. It wasn't his family's fault? It was just the way it was. It was just the burden he had to carry.

It was a burden not many people would have understood. Because not everyone was a doctor. Not everyone worked in the front lines. Not everyone was a caretaker. Not everyone was forced to keep their demons, their ghosts from haunting the people they loved as well.

But sometimes, people happen. Sometimes people enter our lives and we instantly know that they're going to be a very important part of our story. 

Mel was one of those people, and the confirmation was there, in the fact that she was there to see him. In the fact that they knew each other from one day, one shift and she's still interested in him.

There because she cared. There because she was a kindred spirit.

Frank wanted to run the opposite direction and never look back.

“What if she judges me?” Frank had to ask anyway, because it wasn't really him asking. It was his fear.

“Then I kick her out of here,” María shrugged. “You think she likes mate?” 

After a few minutes of obligatory panicking, Langdon allowed Mel to see him. He sat again on his armchair, twiddling with the friendship bracelet Tanner had given him in a poor attempt of controlling his nerves.

In front of him, María remained put, obnoxiously slurping from the bombilla, clearly wanting a front row to the show.

If it was anyone else, if it was in any other context, Frank would have had no problem kicking her out.

That being said, he needed the silent support of the sixty year old Argentinian woman that liked to berate him and offer him mate. Not that he would ever say it out loud. 

When Mel finally appeared by the doorway, Frank was almost surprised she wasn't wearing scrubs, even though that would have been weird. 

She was wearing an oversized red hoodie and a pair of faded mom jeans, her feet cladded in a pair of white sneakers. Her hair tied up in a half-braid, the rest of it falling down her left shoulder. In her right ear, he could see a pair of silver earrings hooked to the helix. Her glasses were perched on the top of her head. 

“Hi,” she offered, her voice soft. She waved a hand in a manner that was too adorable to bear, her smile warm and shy.

Frank felt as if couldn't breathe, in the best way possible. Still, he managed to wave, instantly feeling like an idiot. “Hi.”

In front of him, Maria openly smirked. “Hi. Wanna drink mate with us?” 

oOo

“It's your turn to cook, isn't it?” Trinity asked as she and Dennis walked out of the lobby, heading for the street and home, finally.

Dennis shook his head nervously. “No, I actually have a date.” 

Trinity smirked. “Ah, yes. With the mystery man I know nothing about. When am I finally meeting him?” 

“Thank you for not saying anything before,” Dennis said instead, hoping to divert the conversation. Trinity's smirk widened. “It's not that I don't want to tell the others, it's just-.” 

“I know,” Trinity cut him off. “Old Santos understands, don't worry. As long as I get to meet him first, you're good.” 

Dennis gazed at her with trepidation. “You're not going to threaten him, are you?” 

“...What exactly do you mean by threatening him?” 

“Trin!” 

Trinity punched Dennis in the arm as she cackled. “Dude, I'm kidding! Don't be such a Huckleberry.” 

“I really thought we were past that name.” 

“Huckleberry? That's a new one,” a third voice interjected from behind them, making them turn around.

“Kate!” Dennis greeted, his enthusiasm growing as he noticed Trinity's frozen state. “Are you also this way?” 

“No, actually.” Kate flashed them her car keys before nodding in the direction of a car parked just a few feet from them. “But my car is just there. Do any of you need a ride?” 

“I don't, thanks, I got a date.” Dennis punched Trinity playfully in the arm before smiling at Kate. “But Trin could totally use one! Thanks Kate, it’s so nice meeting you, see you tomorrow!” 

“You too,” Kate began but Whitaker was already scurrying away, leaving the two women alone. “Is he always so…happy?” 

Trinity snorted. “No, but I get it. You would be too if you were about to get some.” 

After a beat, she realized the implications of what she'd just said and wanted to bury her face in her hands. Or walk into incoming traffic. Whichever would get her out of this situation in the most effective manner. 

“Right,” Kate laughed. She opened her car door before nodding at the passenger seat. “Well, where am I taking you?” 

Trinity hesitated on the sidewalk, her hands buried in the pockets of her jacket. She took a moment to study Kate's cunning gaze, her perfect hair - short, wavy and in a fashionable bob -, the way her leather jacket clung to her shoulders and her jeans hugged her ass.

She was so fucking beautiful. 

Trinity didn't know how she was supposed to deal with it. 

“I know we said we were going to have a drink tonight,” Trinity began finally, stammering when Kate smiled at her in understanding. “And I really want to! Believe me, I still want to get that drink. It's just, I'm so tired, and fucking Whitaker left me to cook dinner and tomorrow's lunch by myself and -.” 

“Trinity,” Kate cut her off gently. She closed her car door again, walking around it to stand on the sidewalk next to the young doctor. She grabbed her hands gently, lowering her head slightly to look Trinity in the eyes. “It's okay, really. Honestly, I'm a little exhausted myself.” 

Trinity felt herself smiling in relief. She was so not used to having her emotions play so bluntly on her face but, when Kate was the recipient to them, she found she really didn't care that much. “Really?” 

“Absolutely. That was a trial by fire!” Kate laughed. She squeezed Trinity's hands before letting them go. “I can drive us to get food and we can eat in the car, or you can take the food home and I'll do the same with mine. Either way, I'm still buying you food. It's the least I can do after fucking Whitaker left you to cook by yourself.” 

“Okay,” Trinity agreed and if her voice was slightly breathless, well, she really hopes this author and reader won't say a word to anyone about it. “But we're still getting that drink another day, right?” 

“Absolutely, Dr. Santos. I'm very much looking forward to our date,” Kate winked at her before opening the passenger seat. She made a waving gesture with her hand, smiling when Trinity rolled her eyes. “After you.” 

“Thank you,” Trinity curtsied exaggeratedly, squeezing her eyes close in mortification, even as Kate laughed. “Can we eat together then? I still want to know more about your sisters and the trip you took to Ushuaia.” 

“And I still want to know more about why you call Whitaker Huckleberry,” Kate retorted as she climbed into the driver's seat. She turned on the ignition before taking the car off the driveway. “Also, I'm gonna need you to tell me where to go to get food. I don't know shit about this city.” 

“Oh, I have a whole list and everything. You're not ready for it.” 

“How many categories did you consider to grade each option?” 

“I wanted to do ten categories. Whitaker forced me to lower it to eight.” 

“Ah, that's hot. Let's hear it, Dr. Santos.”

oOo

For many, many years, Dana had had the same routine for the shift's walkout. 

Log off the system. Make sure her water bottle was inside her bag. Grab her phone charger and airpods. Put on her jacket. Grab her bag.

After the Driscoll incident, her routine had changed.

Now, his husband was waiting most days in the parking lot, ready to drive her home.

Now, if her husband was working, one of her coworkers would walk her to her car. 

She hated the attention almost as much as she loved her people's care for her.

As she walked around the corner, the exit to hallways away, she found a familiar figure standing before the picture of the doctors they had lost during COVID.

Now, more often than not, her routine included a few minutes with Robby before the two left. 

“Hey,” Dana greeted as she stood beside Robby. She too looked up at the picture. Always the same picture. Always Adamson's picture. “Saw Jake before leaving. He was okay, talking with Janey. His x-ray came back, he should be avoiding surgery for the wound in his arm, thankfully.” 

“Yeah,” Robby breathed. His gaze didn't leave Adamson's picture. “Thank God. I was not ready to watch him be wheeled into surgery again.” 

Dana nodded in agreement. “Yeah, me neither.” 

For a moment, the charge nurse and the Head Attending of the ED of Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center stared at the picture of their mentor, their friend, their past.

They were his legacy. They were Adamson's future. 

Adamson was gone. 

But let it be known: Adamson would never be forgotten. 

“I know what you're doing,” Dana finally said, her voice soft. She felt Robby tensing beside her but she didn't stop. She couldn't stop. She needed to say it and Robby needed to hear it. “By asking Abbot to change his shifts, by making him your equal, by changing the protocols. I know what you're doing and you need to know that you don't have to.” 

“Yes, I do.” Robby replied in a pained whisper. He didn't look at Dana. It almost seemed as if he couldn't. “I need to.” 

“And this ED needs you. I know you think you failed us four months ago but I'm telling you right now, you didn't. Ask anyone here, ask fucking Gloria if you want to. You could never fail us.” Dana argued passionately. She smiled in understanding when Robby finally looked at her sadly. “And I know Adamson would agree with me. There's a reason why he chose you. This ED doesn't work without you and that is a tremendous burden, but it is also a great honour. If you need to take a break, then take it. But I'm telling you now and I'll tell you however many fucking times you need to hear it. This ED doesn't work without you.” 

Dana enveloped the self-deprecating mountain of a man into a tight hug, sighing before reaching up to kiss his cheek. “Go home now, Cap. Stop being a sad boy.” 

As she walked away, still hearing Robby's heartfelt chuckles, Dana allowed herself to smile. 

The day was over. His husband was waiting outside. Robby was going to be okay. She was going to be okay.

Everything was okay.

oOo

“Tanner and Millie say hi,” Frank called as he walked back into the living room, jumping on the spot to shake off the cold outside. “They also want to meet my ‘new friends'.” 

Becca didn't look up from her place leaning against the kitchen counter, her gaze fixed on their electric kettle. “Do they have a better movie taste than you?” 

Frank stood beside her. “Uncalled for!” 

Becca merely raised an eyebrow.

After a moment, Frank sighed in defeat. “Of course they do.” 

“Then I would love to meet them,” Becca said primly, yet with a sincere smile. Frank felt himself smiling fondly. “They sound like wonderful kids.”

“They are,” Frank replied. He glanced around Becca and Mel's living room, noticing the couch now had three throw pillows instead of two, that his car keys had been placed with Becca's and Mel's house keys, that his red jacket was hanging in the corridor that led to the front door with Mel's work blue hoodie and Becca's puffy lilac jacket. His smile grew. “I think they'll really like you.” 

“I hope so. I know it's important for Mel that they like her. Them and Abby, of course,” Becca replied. She reached for the kettle once the water was hot. “Do you want hot chocolate?” 

“Yes, please. Do you guys still have marshmallows for Mel's?” Frank grabbed three cups from the cupboard above their sink. “Mel's still showering?” 

“Yes and yes,” Becca nodded. She frowned as she grabbed all the ingredients for the hot chocolate, her focus completely in putting the same amount of liquid in each cup. “Hey, can I ask you something?” 

Frank, who had been watching Becca do her magic with the hot chocolate - the three ceramic cups being a blue cup with silver stars for Mel, a white cup with black dots for Becca and a cup that said ‘#1 Uncle’ in big red letters for Frank - with a smile, nodded distractedly. “Of course.” 

“Mel and I - we're both your friends?” 

Frank blinked in confusion. “What do you mean? Of course you are.” 

“I mean, I know I'm your friend. I certainly consider you my friend. If you weren't, you wouldn't be able to join us for Pizza & Pasta Fridays.” Becca straightened slowly once the drinks were ready. “But is Mel your friend in the same way I'm your friend?” 

Frank frowned. He wasn't really sure he was ready for the direction this conversation was taking. “What?” 

Becca sighed, as if the entire conversation was dumber than what she cared to entertain. “I mean, that you feel different about Mel. Don't you?” 

Frank took a step back, fully aware that his cheeks were reddening and that Becca was going to latch onto that fact like a shark. “What? How do you know?” 

“You're only at peace when she's around. And she's only at peace when you're around.” 

Frank felt his breath catch. Not at the idea of being caught because he knew he wasn't really fucking subtle, especially to Becca, who was brilliant and cunning and much too dangerous. 

He felt his breath catch at her words.

Because that, the peace he felt when around her, that was the first thing that made him fall in love with her.

And the idea that she could feel the same, the idea that she could find peace in him the same way he found peace in her… that idea was better than any dream. 

“Becca, it doesn't matter,” Frank forced himself to utter after a moment.

It was Becca's turn to blink. “Why not?” 

Frank's tone was gentle. “She doesn't feel the same.” 

How could she? How could Mel, who was brilliant, and good, and stunning and everything could want him, a man barely decent? 

How could he expect Mel to feel anything for him other than friendship? How could he think he deserved anything other than friendship especially since friendship itself was already a wonderful gift?

“Did she tell you that?” 

“Um, no.” 

“Then how do you know?” 

Frank blinked, speechless.

Becca smirked, triumphant. 

“You are an evil mastermind, you know that right?” Frank finally stammered. He gently gestured in the direction of the cups, his panic growing as his blush went down his cheeks and towards his neck. “Go and put on the movie, I'll take the cups.” 

“Okay!” Becca agreed cheerfully, clearly considering her work was done. She skipped in the direction of the living room. “I'm putting Frozen and we're singing Let It Go!” 

“Never!” Frank declared loudly, snorting a laugh as he rested his hands on the counter, hanging his head in a poor attempt of processing the conversation he just had. Then, he looked up and frowned as his gaze set on the still opened cupboard. “Hey, Becs?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Why do you guys have yerba?” Frank grabbed the yellow package, slowly turning it in his hands. Yerba Canarias, the same one he drank with María at the Center. 

“You mean the yellow package in the cupboard?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, Mel got that a few months ago, I think you were still in rehab. She never opened it though. Why? Is it yummy?” 

Frank blinked, his heart hammering in his chest.

If he ever needed confirmation that he had met the love of his life on the worst day of his life, he would have found it there, in the package containing the ingredient for a drink Mel hated but that he loved. A package that was incredibly hard to find in the US, a package Mel had bought in the slight chance Frank would need it.

He loved her.

He was so, so fucking lucky to love her. 

oOo

Samira was lounging on her sofa, her focus on whether Daenerys would survive the siege in Meereen when her phone got the notification that the Doordash delivery guy had left her food outside her door. 

She stood up excitedly, not really caring that she was wearing her oldest, rattiest pair of hoodie and leggings. She was seeing herself eating a burrito from her favourite place in about three minutes before continuing her Game of Thrones marathon until Jack got to her place. 

Life was good.

She opened her door with a smile, only to gasp as the door in front of her opened as well. 

She took a step into the hallway, frowning at the man who was frozen by the doorway before her. 

“Dennis?” 

Dennis Whitaker, MS4, Huckleberry, the current holder of the record of most scrub changes on one shift, waved awkwardly, his frame still very much frozen. “...Hey…Samira.” 

Samira took him in slowly. Like her, he too was wearing a hoodie and leggings only, his hoodie seemed about twice his size, as if it was actually meant for a guy much bigger than him.

“That’s Shen's apartment,” Samira said slowly, as if knowing she was missing something, something that was just out of reach.

Dennis merely looked at her, his eyes even wider in fright.

And finally, Samira caught up with the current course of events. 

“Oh… my god.” 

Dennis raised his hands in defense. “Samira, stop-.”

“You,” Samira pointed at him before pointing at the apartment behind him. “and Shen!? How did that even happen?” 

“I,” Dennis stammered. “I did my first night shift about a week after Pittfest? And John and I got to talking and-.” 

“It's John, huh?” Samira giggled. She was downright delighted. “Oh, this is the best day of my life.” 

Dennis crossed his arms defensively. “Do you want the story or not?” 

“Oh, I do. Samira opened her door wider before gesturing him in. “C'mon, you're eating dinner with me. I want to hear everything.” 

“I'm waiting for John.” 

“Who's getting in about twelve hours. Get inside or I won't give you half my burrito.” 

oOo

The phone call came when Heather finally sat down to eat, her tv already playing his favourite Friends season.

She grabbed her phone almost distractedly, expecting it to be her mother calling to check on her or even Dana wanting to discuss the adoption idea further.

But no. It wasn't either of them.

It was someone that hadn't called her in many years. 

For a second, she almost didn't pick up.

Then, she shook her head. It was him. When it came to him, she was always going to pick up.

“Hey,” Heather greeted as she placed the call on speakerphone. She paused the episode immediately, not willing to miss a second, not even for Robby. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah, sorry to call you so late.” His voice was calm, calmer than it had been recently. Now that she knew he was in therapy, she could see the effect it was already having on him. “You at home?” 

“Yeah, I just got here.” Heather frowned at her phone when Robby didn't say anything for a moment. “Robby, do you need something?” 

“No- I mean yes, I just.” Heather shot a bewildered look at her phone when Robby cut himself off with a laugh. What the fuck was going on? “I actually wanted to say something but I don't know where to begin.” 

Heather brought the phone closer to her, a reluctant smile dancing in her lips. “The beginning is usually a good place to start. Where are you?” 

“...Why do you ask?” 

Heather rolled her eyes. “Michael Robinavitch.” 

“Fine. Fine.” A sigh filled with dread ensued. “I'm outside your place actually? I realize this was actually a really asshole move, though, so I'm gonna go, I'm so sorry.” 

Robby was still talking as Heather silently crossed her living room, opening her door to find him shivering on the stairs leading to her apartment. He looked at her with shock, only remembering to end the phone call after a moment. “Hey.” 

“Hi,” Heather replied. She crossed her arms as she leaned against the doorway. “Do you want to come in?” 

“I would love to but I actually can't, I'm headed to have dinner with Jake before I drop him off at his home.” Robby was watching her as if she was extraordinary. With a start, Heather realized he had always looked at her like that. She kind of loved it. “I just wanted to ask you if you wanted to get dinner with me sometime.” 

Heather raised her eyebrows in surprise. “As in a date?” 

Robby buried his hands in his pockets, his cheeks too red for it to be due only because of the cold. “Yeah. I will be honest though, because my therapist has mentioned several times that I need to be honest about my feelings.” 

Heather nodded in encouragement. She covered her mouth with a hand in a successful attempt to hide her smile. “That sounds wise.” 

“Yeah, my therapist is wise. You would like her.” 

“...so, what are your feelings?” 

“I'm in love with you,” Robby blurted, his eyes widening when he realized what he’d said. “I… I love you. I don't think I ever stopped loving you. And I'm sorry I'm being so intense but I, I love you, and I needed to tell you that.” 

Heather cocked her head as calmly as she could, which wasn't calm after all.

It turned out, the King and Queen of the ED were major disasters when it came to one another.

This author thinks it's only another sign that they were meant for one another. 

“Okay,” Heather nodded slowly. Carefully, she walked outside, shaking her head in reassurance when Robby shot a worrying gaze in the direction of her bare feet. “I have a few conditions, though.” 

Robby frowned at that. “Anything. Of course, anything.” 

“You will never emotionally check out again.” 

“Working on it. Did I tell you I'm in therapy?” 

“Once or twice,” Heather replied graciously. She climbed down a step. “And you're going to talk to me and tell me if you're not having a good day. You're going to ask me for help.” 

“I promise.” 

After taking a deep breath, she climbed down another step. Standing one step above him, they were almost the same height. She took a moment to look at his face, finally setting on the hope shining in his eyes.

He was so beautiful.

She kind of couldn't believe he was still hers.

“Lastly,” Heather spoke again, her voice dropping to a whisper. She gulped when Robby's hands encircled her waist. Oh, how she had missed them. “You are going to love me deeply every single day, and you're not going to give up on us again.” 

Robby's voice was hoarse. “I promise.” 

Heather allowed her face to inch towards his, his warmth such a comfort after so many years of cold. “I happen to love you too, Michael Robinavitch and I'm telling you right now. If you ever hurt me, I'm cutting off your balls and throwing them in the Allegheny.” 

Robby chuckled before leaning back, his smile teasing. “Sounds like we have a deal, sweetheart.”

God, he was so fucking annoying.

“Shut up,” Heather ordered before kissing him, at last. After so long.

And if Jake finally had to yell from the car to get Robby to remember he was supposed to have dinner well, that's neither here nor there, right?

oOo

Frank finished doing the dishes just as the music from Becca's room stopped, signaling she's down to sleep for the night.

He cracked his neck with a sigh, carefully folding the dish rag and leaving it on the counter before sleepily padding down the hallway towards Mel’s room.

Frank reached the room silently, his breath held as he realized he'd arrived just in time. 

Mel was sitting cross legged before her desk, street clothes discarded in favour of a pair of comfy, warm pajamas. 

Her movements were slow but not really focused, as this was a dance she'd memorized, because she had done it many, many times before. 

Her watch came off her wrist first, resting on the desk next to her work ID. Then came the leather bracelet Becca got her the last time they had a fair at the Center, followed by her glasses. Lastly, her fingers rose towards her hair, letting it go from the messy braid she'd done when they got home and letting it fall around her face in a golden haze. 

It was the dance of a Queen used to standing strong before her subjects, only allowing herself to be her most vulnerable under the cover of darkness, in front of only her most trusted people.

Frank watched it all as he leaned against the doorframe, and felt as if he couldn't breathe, in the best sense possible.

He loved her. Oh, how he loved her.

He was so, so fucking lucky to love her.

“Hey,” Mel suddenly said, her voice soft as to not disturb the peace between them. She turned in her seat to smile at Frank. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” Frank cleared his throat, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck as he took a step forward. “Yeah, sorry. Just, long day.” 

“I know.” Mel stood up and walked over to stand two feet before Frank. Her gaze was tired, but earnest as she smiled. “You did amazing, though.” 

Frank couldn't help but return her smile. It felt so long ago that he was sitting in his car outside PTMC, dreading what he was going to find inside. 

It was almost surreal, the fact that he had made it through. As he stood there, Frank realized he thought he never would. That four months ago, when he stood in that ambulance bay, alone after alienating his mentor and friend, he actually thought that was it. 

But, life continued.

Life always continues.

Frank used to be absolutely terrified of that.

Now, as he stood in front of Mel, he couldn't help but feel so happy life continued after that day. Through all the shit, all the pain, all the fear, all the loss, and all the wins as well.

All of it, to stand there, in that moment.

“I love you,” Frank whispered after a moment. He opened his arms in invitation, really hoping Mel would accept it. 

Mel's smile brightened, her arms immediately sneaking around his waist. She buried her face against his collarbone. “I love you, too.”

Frank closed his eyes, his face buried into her beautiful, shimmering hair. He took a deep breath, feeling himself pause as a random thought crossed his mind. “Hey, Mel?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Why did you change your shifts for this week?” 

When Mel stiffened in his arms, Frank almost snorted. Did she really think he didn't know her at all? “Becca needed me.” 

Frank smiled into her hair, his arms tightening slightly around his waist. “That’s funny because I was talking to Becca earlier and she didn't say anything.” 

“Maybe she didn't want to tell you, Frank.” 

“Really? That's your argument?” 

“What, you don't like it?” 

“Mel.” 

“Fine,” Mel sighed as she slowly stepped out of his embrace. Frank immediately crossed his arms before his chest, not because he was feeling defensive, but in a poor attempt of keeping her warmth near. “Fine. I lied. Happy now?” 

“I'm not angry, darling.” Frank's gaze widened in panic as he took notice of the term of endearment, instantly ready to blame Kate for saying ‘darling’ near him all day long. He sat on her bed, watching as she fidgeted before him. “I just want to know why you did that… and honestly, I'm worried you made your week more difficult by changing shifts.” 

“I didn’t,” Mel instantly protested. She crossed her arms in a manner so adorable that Frank had to dig his nails into his palms in order not to grab her and kiss the daylights out of her. “You know Becca is more used to this schedule, anyways. And she loved having you here.” 

Frank frowned skeptically. “So… all is good? You don't have to make up later or something?” 

“Well, I might have to do two weeks straight in the night shift instead of one.” 

“Mel!” 

“What?” Mel exclaimed. She turned fully towards Frank, her hands on her waist in a challenging posture. Frank gulped. “I'm not going to apologize for wanting to be there for you, Frank.” 

“I'm not saying that,” Frank raised her hands in surrender. “I'm saying you didn't have to do all that for me.” 

“Well, I wanted to, okay? You are…I take care of my people. I always have. And you're my person, you're my best friend, you're mine.” Mel pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration as her words toppled over each other, all of them doing their best to burst out of her. “I knew you weren't going to ask for help, even if you wanted me there. So, I made sure I could be there.” 

“Darling,” Frank breathed. He rested his hands on the comfort, his fingers twitching with the overwhelming need of getting closer to her. He looked at her almost in disbelief of her existence. How could a creature so perfect exist in the same vicinity as him? “I'm… I'm yours?” 

Mel returned his gaze with a pleading one of her own. “Aren't you? Aren't I yours?” 

“But,” Frank gaped, his mouth opening and closing a few times. He felt like an imbecile, because the last thing he wanted to do was doubt her words - in fact, he didn't doubt them at all - but this idea that this angel, this beautiful, perfect person could want anything to do with him… it was simply something he hadn't even dared to dream. “You're brilliant, and you're so good and you're so gorgeous. You're the best person in the whole world, why would you want me?” 

Mel's voice dropped to a fearful whisper. “Why would you want me?” 

Had Frank thought of telling Mel how he felt? Of course he had. Countless times.

Late at night, in the emptiness of his new apartment, with nothing but the silence to keep him company, a silence that was oppressive and weighted, Frank would turn to his other companion: his running thoughts.

He would think of telling Mel how he felt. He never dared to imagine her reaction, because it was equally terrifying to think of a positive or a negative outcome. But he did know he would be gentle with his words, that he wasn't going to be intense, that he would tell Mel as calmly as he could, that he would be clear in that he didn't expect anything and that he would never, never, weigh her with the immensity of his feelings.

And suddenly, they were at that moment.

But never, in all of his late nights of daydreaming, did he imagine Mel was going to admit to her feelings first.

So, when Mel looked at him with a pleading gaze, her eyes reddened as they always were when she was on the brink of tears, did Frank remember his carefully crafted plan? 

No, absolutely not. His plan went out the fucking window along with the rest of his coherent thoughts.

Dearest reader, I really hope you don't blame him for that. This author definitely doesn't blame him but well, she's always been somewhat of a hopeless romantic.

“Because you walk into any room and you outshine everyone, and you're everything I care to see. Because you met me at my worst and you stayed. Because you're everything I've been looking for my entire life and I really, really never thought I would ever find you.” Frank stood before Mel, softly resting his forehead against hers. He smiled when Mel gripped his shirt in her hands, her body edging even closer to his. He couldn't breathe. He loved it. “I wanted you four months ago. I want you now. My sweetheart, my darling, my love, I will want you my entire life. I will love you my entire life.” 

Mel laughed tearfully, her hands trembling against his stomach. Frank took them on his own, his thumbs caressing her knuckles. “I never thought this would happen to me.” 

Frank's laughter joined her own, giddy, breathless, and relieved. Only then, as he stood there, wrapped up in the love of his life, did he realize how terrified he had been. As he stood there, so hyped up he could go outside and run across the entire neighborhood, did he honestly realize how lucky he was, to love and to be loved in return.

Right then and there, he made a promise to himself.

A promise that he would always remember how lucky he was.

“Mel,” Frank spoke again. Hoarsely, desperately, lovingly. “Can I please kiss you?” 

“Yeah,” Mel breathed. She reached up, caressing his nose with her own, her breath ghosting across his lips. Frank closed his eyes, barely withholding a moan. “Please kiss me. Please, don't ever stop kissing me.” 

Honestly, something this author has always marveled over is the way stories happen, all in different places, all at the same time, all with different outcomes. 

Outside, life was going on as usual. Becca was deep asleep, their neighbours were eating dinner while watching Lord of the Rings and outside, snow was just starting to fall.

Inside, Frank and Mel kissed, tightly wrapped in each other, their lips a sweet caress they felt deep in their hearts.

Inside, two soul mates finally recognized each other as such.