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In hindsight, getting the dog was a mistake.
It had been another attempt to do something for his kids—who he knew he didn’t see enough with his hours, an idea that, in his amped-up high, he thought would complete their family. It’d be easy. Frank always wanted a dog as a child.
But coming out of the 60 day in-patient rehab, coming out of a divorce that was a long time in the making, and moving out of the four bedroom house that he called home and into a run-down apartment, Frank couldn’t deny that the adoption was a mistake.
Abby, of course, didn’t want the dog in the end.
“You were the one who adopted him, Frank.” She said, not unkindly. “Maybe he’ll be good for you.”
Frank, fresh from rehab and feeling raw, had nothing productive to say. So, he took Oliver full time, Abby took primary custody of the kids to accommodate his work schedule, and that was that.
“I just don’t have the time to walk Ollie as much as he needs. He’s got so much energy.”
Dana leveled him with a look, eyes cool and steady behind her glasses.
It was officially a month since he was back in the Pitt, making it almost five months since he moved out of the family home.
“Maybe you should have thought of that before springing a puppy on Abby to take care of.”
“Tanner said he’d help,” Frank muttered, distracted as he finished uploading his notes from his last patient (18 year old; broken arm and sprained ankle; alcohol induced fall).
Dana’s reply was a familiar refrain, “He’s not even five, Langdon. What did you expect?”
He was saved from answering as Perlah spun around in her chair, eyes narrowed at the pair, “I actually think I know someone who can help you with your problem.”
Frank paused his typing, eyebrows raised, “I can’t tell if we’re at the start of a porno or you’re about to recommend me another therapist. At this point, I think Robby has forwarded me every office’s information, as long as they are remotely in the area, so good luck.”
Perlah rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips.
Frank knew that he still had a long way to go in earning back the trust of the Pitt. Beyond just regaining access to the medication, beyond just the mandatory urine tests and weekly counselor meetings. He could see it in the way nurses tensed up around him. In the way Heather was careful with her words around him; less sibling-like teasing and more quick check-ins.
Robby…well. That was something Frank didn’t want to think about sober, which meant their relationship remained in a strict “do-not-open” box.
But—the moments where Perlah and Princess ganged up in their teasing at him and when Dana continued to call him on his bullshit. Those were the moments he felt most sane.
“There’s an intern finishing her first year up in Peds. She’s offered to help with odd-jobs when her schedule allows. I know she mentioned dog-walking.”
“Oh to be young and have energy after work,” Dana mused, taking a deep pull of coffee.
Perlah barreled on, “I can get you her number if you want. Probably easier to coordinate with someone who works here than using any of those apps. And her schedule might be a little more consistent in Peds than yours here.”
Hope rose in his chest, “What’s her name?”
“I don’t exactly remember. Melanie? Marianne? Melly? Something with an M. I’ll find out and get you her number by the end of the week.”
*
Frank started and deleted the initial text messages more times than he’d like to admit. He had to keep reminding himself that it was just asking about dog walking. A voice in his head (that sounded suspiciously like Robby’s) reminded him that it was never a bad thing to ask for help.
But still. Bringing someone into his home, to meet his dog—he felt like someone split him open and laid him out an autopsy table for everyone to poke at his insides.
hey, this is frank from the ED. perlah passed on your number bc i need some extra help walking my dog, Oliver? she said you’re looking for some extra work ? let me know if you’re interested / hours you are free!
Hi Frank! I’m Mel. Glad Perlah was able to connect us. My hours right now are pretty set outside any emergencies—6:00 am to 4:30 pm. I have a hard stop at 6:30 pm though, but can do any time beforehand and on my days off.
that would be great. outside of my night rotations, i’m usually done by 8pm so having him get a walk and fed in the early evening would be perfect. could you start next week? and are you okay with cash?
Cash is King!
But, yes, that works for me. Just let me know any additional details about Oliver, how to get the key, ect. Looking forward to it!
And so it began.
Perlah was able to pass along his apartment keys to Melissa the following Monday, a smug glint in her eyes as she pocketed the key chain. Frank pushed down his guilt, allowing Whitaker to pull him into South 14 to check in about an adolescent with continuous vomiting. Gross, but enough to keep his spiraling thoughts at bay.
By the time Frank drove out of the parking lot, it was already 8:30 pm. For the first time in weeks, he had been about to leave on time—was in the locker room and everything—when multiple GSW were rolled in and suddenly, he was back on the floor, helping Abbot bounce between the victims, trying to stop the blood, and keep the new interns and med-students focused, and trying not to let himself get too derailed when one of the victims was a little boy about Maddie’s age, and—
He tried to blink the images out of his head, somehow already back to his apartment. His hands were shaking so badly that it took him three times to get the key in the lock.
Oliver bounded up to him, tail wagging, but less frantic than he had been in weeks. Frank absently scrubbed a hand through his curls, before dropping his bags at the door to make his way to the kitchen island. He had left Melissa a written note with the details he inevitably forgot in their texts, leaving a wad of bills that matched her fee for the week (and a little bit more as a thank you).
He was not expecting to see a bright yellow post-it note stuck to the front of his note.
Hi Frank! Oliver had a great walk—he was a bit jumpy at the start but settled after going to the bathroom. He’s so sweet! Fed him per your instructions and freshened his water as well. We should be all set for tomorrow but if there’s anything amiss, let me know.
Have a good night.
His lips quirked up at the neat handwriting, a full grin spreading across his face at the smiley face accompanying her signature. Ollie nudged his hand, huffing slightly.
“Alright, alright. Let’s go for a quick walk, bud.”
It wasn’t until he had finished their walk, scarfed down a sad dinner, showered, and was sitting on his couch—surrounded by silence—that Frank realized that maybe he should reply to Melissa’s note.
thanks for walking ollie. he was in great spirits when i came home and i appreciate the help. all set for tomorrow and the rest of the week!
shit, sorry for texting you so late—i know you said you were on the morning rotation right now. hope you don’t see these until the morning.
He frowned at his phone, the guilt crawling back up his throat. His body felt itchy, restless. Even though it had been months since he had moved into this apartment, Frank wasn’t used to the stillness that came with it. He missed the constant stream of noise from his toddlers, the way that even when they were asleep, he’d be able to hear the mobiles chiming over their little breaths on the baby monitors.
He was relieved, the next morning, that Melissa hadn’t interacted with his messages until 5:30 am, presumably on her way to work.
Glad to hear it! And sounds good. If you want to just keep me updated each week with what days you need me to stop by, that works perfectly.
Also—you don’t need to apologize. I keep my phone on do not disturb after a certain time. No need to worry about waking me up!
Relief flooded through Frank’s chest. He looked at Oliver, who was sprawled next to him, despite Frank’s endless attempts to keep him off the bed.
“Looks like you’ve got a new friend, buddy.”
And so it went.
Frank continued his shifts, still trying to navigate the new dynamics in the Pitt, trying not to piss off Collins or Dana too much, still calling McKay when he needed a calming voice (and a cigarette), and still trying to navigate his complicated emotions around Santos, who both ruined and saved him last year. And that doesn’t begin to cover the process of figuring out where he stands with Robby and how to work through his own emotions towards him. It was stilted, awkward, and slow-going. Frank hated it.
On the other hand, he was beginning to find a balance outside of work with Abby and the kids, finding ways to be in their lives without making Abby uncomfortable, working towards a custody arrangement that gave him more hours with them, and relearning to communicate again.
And then there was the perpetual bright spot of Melissa.
He hadn’t met her in person yet, their paths never crossing at PTMC, and despite having each other’s numbers, Melissa still wrote little notes to him after every walk. Always about Oliver, but sometimes, she’d add a little postscripts.
Hope your day was less crazy than mine! Is there something in the air that makes Thursday so much more chaotic than others? Trying to figure out if it’s just a Peds thing or a PTMC phenomenon.
Are the nurses in your department quite as…gossipy as they are upstairs? I know too much about Doctor Phlanders from Surgery and need to know if it’s just me that is getting all this extra information.
Stuck it on the fridge, but there was a notice about scheduled maintenance on your door! Want to make sure you saw!
Cute kiddos! she wrote after Frank had added a new frame to the breakfast bar, a candid from the weekend of Tanner and Maddie beaming up at him, with chocolate ice cream all over their face. That note was his favorite.
He could have just texted her back, but there was something about hand-writing his responses, something about seeing his chicken-scratch next her to neat penmanship when he left in the morning.
ive long held the belief that thursday and sundays are the days that people sleep on when thinking about worst shifts. i dont know what it is but youre not alone in this thought.
not just you—i mean, the only reason i reached out is because perlah knows too much about my life (and about every other person in this department hospital).
thanks! if they’re still here when you walk O today, feel free to either take him on a longer walk if you have time or just put him in his kennel when you get back. dont want him to get too underfoot. (let me know if you do go for the longer walk and ill leave some extra money tomorrow for you).
Their texts, inadvertently, were only about Oliver’s scheduling, whether it was Frank letting her know about his hour changes for the next few weeks or when Melissa had to work late or come in unexpectedly. And, most recently, was Melissa texting him that her time in Peds was ending, sending along her tentative new rotation schedule.
It’s more likely than not that I’ll be working later than these shifts end. I’ll keep you posted but it’s going to be a lot more intense.
Frank had frowned at the message, wanting to pry and ask what department she was moving to, but refrained. He was trying this new thing of respecting his coworker’s boundaries and not pushing them—even if they weren’t in his direct department.
thats fine, im sure we can figure something out. do you want to take the next week off? give you some time to acclimate and see how it goes.
As long as I’m not disappointing Oliver too much.
Frank, blessedly, had the following Monday off when the new rotation of students and residents began, so when he stepped into the Pitt, he felt off-kilter, like when he used to miss the top step in the old house during the first few months after Maddie was born.
“Ah, Langdon,” Robby’s hand hovered near his shoulder. Frank’s mood sank lower when he put his hand back in his pockets. “This is Dr. King, year two resident. She started yesterday—I’m going to have her work with you a bit this morning. She started about 30 minutes ago, so she already has a couple patients, if you want to catch up.”
Dr. King gave a jerky wave, a tentative smile on her lips, “Everyone calls me Mel.”
Frank’s eyes flitted between the two, eyebrows dancing higher on his face. It had been a while—since his first shift back, if he was honest—that Robby directly assigned a student with him. They still had a long way to go, but Frank could recognize an olive branch when he saw one.
He took in Mel, with her hair carefully braided back, eyes wide, and a shy smile still lingering.
“Well, Mel. Nice to meet you—I’m Langdon. Show me what we’re working with.”
They bounced from room to room, Mel patiently catching him up on the diagnosis, quickly scratching down additional notes as Frank checked in with each patient. Her work was thorough and precise—even if she was a bit too on the nose in her conversations with the patients.
“MVA incoming in three,” Dana called.
Frank turned towards Mel, cocking his head towards the ambulance bay, “We’re going to want to get in there fast. Surgery should already be on their way down, but sometimes they can get a little too scissor happy, if you know what I mean.”
If he wasn’t mistaken, Frank saw excitement shining behind Mel’s glasses as she nodded, “I met Garcia yesterday?” She continued at Frank’s groan, “she was clearly competent, but I know what you mean.”
Before he had a chance to reply, the gurneys were rushed in, chaos following them in. The victims were a young 20 something woman with broken ribs and her arms twisted in an unnatural way and the other driver, a middle aged woman with deep lacerations across her torso that were bleeding too much and clear signs of a concussion. With a quick nod of his head, Mel and Frank scrubbed into the laceration room.
He had to admit—she was good.
Mel was quick with her answers to both Frank and Robby’s questions, only hesitating for a brief second when asked to take the lead on checking for internal bleeding. Frank kept a careful eye on her hands, looking for any sort of tremors or nerves. But they were as steady as anyone else's.
After everyone had stabilized and the two finally had a moment to breathe at the center desks, Frank turned to her, “Impressive work, Dr. King.”
“You can call me Mel, it’s fine,” She said automatically, diligently typing up the report from the accident. He watched in fascination as the complement registered, her cheeks pinkening, “oh. Thank you, Dr. Langdon.”
“Where did you say you worked before this?”
“Before PTMC, I did some rotations at the VA. But this is my second rotation here—I was upstairs as an intern, but am excited to finally be working in the ED.”
Frank nodded, “Well, if this is you on your second day here, I think you’re going to make great impressions on the team here.”
Her flushed deepened as she pulled her hands close to her chest. He watched several emotions play across her face, giving her space to work through it. He had a gut feeling that Mel wasn’t one to be pushed to share her thoughts, outside of working with patients.
“I—well. We’ll see. It’s just day two.”
“Call it intuition. But wrap those notes up—looks like McKay is bringing someone back and we want to get there before Collins.”
Unfortunately for him, Frank didn’t get a chance to work with Mel much after that shift. With the flux of the new students, Robby moved Frank to night shift to help with the balance. Luckily for him, his dog walker was still on the morning shifts and though the hours were longer, she was still able to swing by at least a few times a week.
About a month into the night shift, Frank did a double take when he walked into the locker room and saw Mel was sitting on the bench, staring blankly at the wall in front of her. She didn’t jump, or even look up, when the door slammed shut behind him. He walked slowly towards her, not unlike when he would walk into Tanner’s room as he was already halfway to a meltdown, words incoherent as he sobbed.
The closer he got to her, the more his stomach sank. Her hair, which was always neatly pulled back, was escaping her braid, blood streaked on the strands and near the ends. He frowned as he realized there was dried blood not only on her top, but also on her face—a small streak across her forehead and dots on her cheek.
“Dr. King?” He asked quietly, holding himself from getting too close to her while she was in this state.
She turned towards him, blinking at his figure, eyes still distant, “Dr. Langdon. What are you doing here?”
His frown deepened as he took another step closer, “My shift starts in 10 minutes. What are you still doing here?”
“Hm? Oh. I just. I needed to sit—Robby was on the roof and I didn’t want to disturb him,” Her voice was faint. “I just. I needed a second.”
“It’s been three hours since your shift ended, Mel.”
Her voice shrank even more, “oh.”
Frank sat on the bench, close enough to feel her warmth but not enough to touch her, “do you want to talk about it?”
She shook her head. But then, she nodded slowly, lips wobbling. “The injuries were from a father abusing his family. The younger sister called 911 about her mom and sister. There was just—so much blood.”
Before she continued, Frank already knew where it was going. In their first shift together, Mel had mentioned her sister no less than seven times and whenever they passed each other between shifts, Mel would light up every time he asked how Becca was doing.
“The mom is in the ICU now, but the girl—she was just fourteen.” She choked on the last word. Mel pulled her hands to her chest, clutching them tightly as they trembled against her sternum.
“If I know anything from the few times we worked together, I know this. You did everything you could, Mel.”
She nodded, hands still shaking. Slowly, giving her space to back away, Frank reached out and pried her hands apart. They were ice cold in his. He squeezed once, twice, waiting for her to meet his gaze.
“You did everything you could. And I know it’s hard but she’s not Becca. She’s at her center, safe and sound.”
“I just can’t get her younger sister out of my head.”
Frank shut his eyes, squeezing her hands again, “I know. I know. I can still tell you about every single person that died under my care. It doesn’t get easier—but you can’t allow it to consume you. Not if this is what you want to do. And Mel, we need people like you here. You’re good. But you have to be able to leave it here. Believe me, the minute you start taking it home is the minute you’re setting yourself up to fail.”
Mel’s hands stopped shaking and when she looked up, her dark eyes were clear. She nodded slowly, briefly squeezing his hands before extracting them from his grip. Frank pointedly ignored the way his stomach swooped. He gave her a moment to collect herself, looking away when she quickly wiped her eyes.
He glanced at the clock—he had two minutes before the shift started, but he also wasn’t going to leave her in this state.
“Are you going to be okay to get home? To get Becca?”
She took another deep breath, color starting to come back to her, “Yeah. I’m going to grab a soda or something, but then I should be okay.” She looked up at him, an unidentifiable expression on her face, “thank you. For checking in and making sure I was okay.”
Warmth bloomed in his chest and even though he knew how selfish it was, he let it roll over him. “Don’t tell the others but you’re my favorite newbie so far, King. I can’t have you burning out before we get a chance to work together again.”
She grinned, “I hate keeping secrets.”
Frank let out a loud laugh, pushing himself off the bench, “Then tell the others. I don’t care.”
He paused, “Can you just. Text me when you get home safe? Just for my own sanity?”
The tension in his shoulders lessened when Mel nodded. It wasn’t until a few hours later did he have a moment to check his phone, tension bleeding out of his shoulders when he saw Mel’s name in the GroupMe notification.
Just realized I don’t have your number. Becca and I made it home.
Thank you again for checking in.
Before he had a chance to talk himself out of it, Frank replied. are you working tomorrow?
I was supposed to, but Robby told me to take the day.
Are you a dog person?
The next day, Frank loaded Oliver into his car, his own excitement matching Ollie’s frantic tail-wagging. After surviving rehab, his divorce, and everything in between, he knew that Oliver had a way of making everything better. Not quite solving the problem, but at the very least, distracting from immediate worries. And if he wanted to see another smile grace Mel’s face—a smile that he helped put there—well. Sue him.
When he pulled up to the condo she was renting, Mel was already waiting outside in her front yard. He swallowed hard when he realized her hair was loose, delicately blowing in the wind. He turned towards Oliver.
“Best behaviors, now. We want to make sure she’s feeling okay. Don’t come on too strong.”
Oliver huffed at him, tongue rolling happily out of his mouth. He waved towards Mel as he stepped from the car, grabbing the leash as the goldendoodle hopped out himself.
Before he had a chance to say another word, Oliver tugged his way out of Frank’s grasp, blonde curls flying as he sprinted towards Mel. She bent down, laughing as he reached her, licking her cheeks. Just as suddenly as Oliver ran, Mel cocked her head, looking between Frank and his dog and back again.
“Ollie?” Mel asked as Frank made his way towards the pair. His dog was already on his back, paws in the air as he waited for Mel to rub his stomach.
“What a fucking ham,” Frank laughed, shaking his head.
“No, I mean, is your dog’s name Ollie?”
“Yeah, of course. Did I not tell you?”
Mel let out a long sigh, something shifting in her face. Then she started giggling, before morphing into a full body laugh, snorts and all. Frank, albeit bemusedly, set about memorizing the sound, knowing the likelihood of hearing that laugh in the ED was low. As she settled, taking deep breaths, she looked back up at Frank, hair glowing in the sun.
“Frank, I’ve met Oliver before,” She said. Before he had a chance to ask, she continued, “I’ve been walking him for months now.”
He furrowed his brow, “No, I have a dog walker who takes care of him. Her name…”
“Is Melissa.” Mel pointed at herself, “Which, Mel is short for.”
Frank blinked, everything slotting together. The hours that he now realized lined up with Mel’s shifts, how the hours changed when she moved to the Pitt, and—
“When you said cash was King, I was confused why you capitalized the word, but it was a play on your name.”
Mel’s smile was crooked as she absently rubbed Oliver’s belly, “I thought it was a good joke, yeah.”
Frank sank to the grass next to her, “How did we not realize this?”
He watched her turn the question around in her head, piecing together their interactions. She spoke slowly, “I mean, I’ve never had to text you before—I’ve just used the group app. And, uh. You have so many pictures of your kids up, but. None. None of you.”
His smile was bittersweet, “yeah, don’t really need to see my face beyond the mirror, lately. I know you’ve only been here a bit, but I’m sure I don’t have to tell you why.”
Mel frowned, “you weren’t kidding about the nurses being gossips. But, uh. Yeah, I’ve heard some things.”
“But,” She continued, her gaze steady as Frank dropped his to the ground, “I promise that it didn’t impact how I view you or your work.”
He let out his own snort. Enough time had passed that it only stung a little when he asked “How could it not? An addict stealing pills from his patients—great example to follow by.”
“Langdon. Frank,” Despite himself, his lips twitched hearing his name in her mouth. “That doesn’t define you. As a doctor, you know that addiction is a disease. That once it infects someone, their actions are no longer theirs alone.
“And, from what it sounds like, you put in the work. You fought back—you’re here again. And I know you haven’t been on the day shift, but you should hear the way Collins and Robby talk about you. They still clearly care about and respect you.”
Frank was trying not to be a selfish man, but he couldn’t help but ask, “And you?”
“And me?” Mel smiled at him. “You sat with me after one of my worst shifts ever. You brought over your dog over to cheer me up. And on my second day, you went out of your way to make sure I was settling in and comfortable. Not everyone does that, Frank.”
He didn’t want to add that that alone was unusual behavior for him. He enjoyed teaching, but never felt like he could connect the way Robby did or adjust his teaching styles the way Collins could. He wanted them to be ready to go, day one, and keep up with him.
“So, yeah. I don’t think any less of you because of your history. If anything, it makes me respect you more. That you fought your way out of this and are still here. Still trying and still caring.”
She reached out carefully, giving his hand a light squeeze. Her hands were steady, warm. Frank kept his gaze down as he flipped his hand over, gently intertwining their fingers. He could feel Mel looking at him, just as sure as he could feel the sun beaming down at them.
But instead of saying anything, Mel just squeezed his hand again, letting it settle on the grass between them. They sat, for who knows how long, holding hands and letting Ollie push them into alternating petting him.
And by the time Frank left, Mel giving him a brief but tight hug, he felt better than he could remember feeling in months. And if he didn’t want to touch the other emotions with a ten-foot pole—well, that was another problem for another day.