Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s the same night; the same man and woman enjoying the same movie. But as the hours slip by, they draw closer. Now they sit shoulder to shoulder, their ankles lightly intertwined. Every so often, Frank feels her head lean against his shoulder, her blonde hair brushing the side of his neck like a whisper.

He nudges her head gently with his chin, waiting for her attention. When she turns to look at him, he smiles.

“You know, you’re a lot like Katniss.”

Her face scrunches in confusion, the way it always does when she’s caught off guard. “What?”

“Well, for one, the braid.” He tugs playfully at the braid resting against her shoulder. “Second, you love your sister so much you’d do anything for her.” He nods toward the direction of Becca’s room.

“And third,” he adds softly, “you earn the respect of everyone in the room without even trying.”

She shifts, turning to face him more fully, doubt flickering in her eyes. “No they don’t,” she says, shaking her head and looking away.

But when she finally meets his gaze again, she finds him looking at her with such intensity, such feeling, it makes her breath catch.

“Yes, they do,” he says. “They’ll listen to whatever you have to say. And they’ll follow you.”

_____

“Mel, you are a sensitive person. This is a tough place for sensitive people. But we need them…Badly.”

Melissa King had only worked with Frank Langdon for one day. Just a single shift, a brief moment in the whirlwind of their demanding work. Then, without warning, he disappeared. But in that short time, his encouraging words left a lasting mark on her. She carried them with her, letting them echo in the quiet moments when the weight of her job felt too heavy.

She’d heard the rumors after he left, whispers of scandal, addiction, and disgrace, but she didn’t want to believe them. Maybe some of it was true. Maybe all of it was. Either way, there was nothing she could do to change the past.

She couldn’t relate to what he’d done but she could understand it.

She remembered her father, trying and failing over and over again to beat his addiction. She remembered the moments of clarity, brief but powerful, when the regret and shame outweighed the craving. In the end, the addiction won. But when she had to say goodbye to him, standing at his funeral, she held no anger. Only sorrow.

So when she lays eyes on Dr. Langdon again, ten months later, she’s unprepared for the wave that hits her. A flash of her father crying on the floor, begging for forgiveness after another relapse. A flash of her twelve year old self, standing before the coffin, hoping he’d finally found peace.

Looking at Frank now, seeing how the recovery has ravaged his body, she feels a fierce, unexpected protectiveness. She knows how hard this is. She’s witnessed it. Recovering from addiction isn’t just about resisting cravings. It’s fighting your own body, your habits, your past, your critics, your peers and your mind. And sometimes, the mind is the most dangerous monster of all.

She doesn’t want Frank to fail like her father did.

She might not be the strongest or the loudest in the room, but when it comes to the people she cares about, Melissa King is a force of nature. She knows how to take care of the people she cares about, even when they can't take care of themselves. 

Chapter Text

Dr. Langdon has been back a little over a month. Although he’s made his rounds of apologies, Melissa can tell that some amends are taking longer to mend. Case in point: Trinity Santos.

Since working with her, Mel considers Trinity a friend. She’s rough around the edges, sure, but she’s also a good doctor especially when she trusts her instincts. Underneath the sharpness, there’s a softness Trinity tries hard to hide, shaped by experience and self-preservation.

As Mel’s friendship with Dr. Langdon deepens, her appreciation for what Trinity did grows. Trinity may have been the catalyst for his downfall but maybe it was a downfall that needed to happen.

Frank knows it too. He’s admitted that Trinity did the right thing. Still, he carries a bitter resentment toward her. “It’s not anger,” he once told Mel. “It’s shame. Embarrassment. You can appreciate a medicine and still hate the way it makes you feel.”

Trinity confided in Mel after he apologized, she accepted it, but she still doesn’t trust him. Mel wanted to argue, but it wasn’t her place. She’s never told Trinity about her father, but she knows they both have secondhand experience with addiction and it’s shaped them in very different ways. So when Trinity vents, Mel usually just listens. But today, it’s harder than usual.

Probably because this morning, she saw Dr. Robby pull Langdon aside. When it was over, he wasn’t the same. He started putting distance between them again offering to switch partners, encouraging her to work alone. He’s still there when she asks a question, but there's a wall now. It’s a pattern she’s come to recognize he does this after meetings with Dr. Robby, or after someone throws a backhanded comment his way.

Whether meant to hurt him or not, they always do. She sees it in the way his smile falters, how his eyes dull. Every time, it chips away at him. And still, he keeps showing up working hard to rebuild what he lost, trying to earn back trust. That’s why she makes sure to tell him she sees it. That she’s proud of him. But moments like today feel like two steps back for every one step forward.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Trinity says, her voice sharp, “I appreciate that he’s not screaming at me like before. But it’s so frustrating when he undermines me in front of everyone. I know what I’m doing. No offense, but he has no leg to stand on anymore. That kind of went out the window.”

Mel flinches. She gets it, everyone’s entitled to feel however they feel about him. But when they don’t even try to see who he is now , it’s hard for her to keep defending that right.

She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and exhales slowly. Then she opens them.

“Trinity, please stop,” she says firmly, cutting her off.

“I understand that you have strong feelings about Dr. Langdon and you’re entitled to them. But if you need to vent because you want someone to agree with you, then please... find someone else.”

Trinity stares at her, mouth opening and closing in surprise.

Mel wants to feel guilty, but all she feels is tired. Tired of watching people dismiss not just Frank’s efforts but also her friendship with him.

She isn’t naïve. She knows Langdon treats her differently but it’s not one-sided. From the very beginning, she felt more comfortable going to him than anyone else. He seemed to understand her faster than the other residents did. On her first day, she found herself seeking him out, drawn to the way he made her feel capable, respected. He reframed the parts of herself she once saw as flaws, helping her see them as strengths. And when he returned, it felt only natural to offer that support back. Since then, their connection has only grown deeper.

“I know Dr. Langdon has made mistakes,” she says, her voice calm but steady. “But I’ve also seen how hard he’s worked to come back from them. I’m his friend not because I overlook his flaws, but because I recognize his progress. And I’ll continue to hold him accountable for all of it.”

Trinity hasn’t said a word, but Mel sees her shoulders sink slightly.

“I—” Trinity starts, but glances over Mel’s shoulder.

Mel doesn’t need to turn around to know it’s Langdon.

“Is everything okay here?” he asks carefully.

She gives him a tight nod before facing Trinity again.

“Yes. Dr. Santos had a question. I answered it. We’re done here.”

She offers Trinity a curt nod before turning away, Langdon falling into step beside her without a word. The silence between them is thick and awkward as they move down the corridor. She catches him glancing back at Santos, then at her. A sigh escapes him as he gently reaches for her elbow.

“Mel... you didn’t have to do that.”

“No,” she replies, stopping to face him. “I didn’t. But I wanted to.”

“I don’t want to be the reason you’re fighting with your friends.”

“Then my friends shouldn’t talk down about my other friends.”

He stares at her for a beat, hands deep in his pockets, then gives a small, grateful smile.

“Thanks, Mel.”

She watches him walk off, shoulders hunched, head lowered, but at least now he can't deny that she’s in his corner.

As she turns toward her next patient, she catches sight of Dr. Robby down the hallway, watching Frank with something unreadable in his eyes. Something that makes her blood run hot.

She waits for a moment when things aren’t so hectic to catch Dr. Robby alone, pulling him into an empty break room. The door shuts behind them with a soft thud, sealing them off from the buzz of the hospital. She takes a breath, collecting her thoughts. This conversation needs to be careful, but clear.

She knows Robby is still affected by Langdon; distant and cold, not out of spite but pain. Still, the image of Frank’s defeated expression pushes her forward.

“Dr. Robby, I need to talk to you about Dr. Langdon.”

“Mel, I really don’t think this is the time—” he starts, already retreating, but she steps forward, head held high.

“Every time you pull him aside, probably to warn him about something he hasn’t even done yet. It has consequences,” she says, voice steady. “You may not see it, but I do. It affects him. And when you use me to make your point, it hurts both of us.”

She watches as recognition flickers across his face, followed by frustration. It probably never occurred to him that she might be caught in the crossfire. His criticism is a defense mechanism. A way to guard against the betrayal he still feels. She understands that. But understanding doesn’t make it right.

“Mel—” he starts again, softer this time.

But she holds firm.

“He doesn’t need reminders of his mistakes. He’s the addict, sir. He already knows. He carries it with him every day.”

She pauses, holding back emotion. She thinks of every time Frank’s shoulders slumped under invisible weight, every time he forced a smile, trying to believe in himself again.

“I’m not trying to overstep. But Dr. Langdon is doing everything that’s asked of him and without complaint.” She exhales slowly, letting the words land. “And I do believe you’re trying to support him, Dr. Robby. I do. But if those efforts are causing him to push away the people who are in his corner…it may be having the opposite effect.”

Silence falls between them. Mel stands in quiet hope, Robby in silent thought. She watches as emotion flickers across his face, conflict, understanding, maybe even regret.

“Thank you for bringing it to my attention,” he says finally, his voice low. He nods, looking down for a beat before lifting his eyes to hers again. “It might not seem like it, but…I’m glad he has you in his corner.”

He turns slightly, ready to leave, but she steps forward.

“I know he let you down,” she says gently, “but he really is—”

He raises a hand, stopping her. There’s a tiredness in his eyes.

“I think it’s obvious that…I let him down too.”

He doesn’t wait for a response. He places a hand on her shoulder, brief, steady, quietly apologetic, then walks out.

She stays where she is, the silence of the room pressing in around her. The tension in her shoulders refuses to ease. Her heart still beats faster than it should. She feels…off balance. Like something inside her has shifted.

She had stepped into that room ready to fight for Frank. But now that the conversation is over, she realizes she hadn’t expected Robby to truly hear her. And yet maybe he did.

The discomfort lingers, but it’s tempered by something quieter. Relief, maybe. Or just the simple knowledge that she said what needed to be said. For now that has to be enough.

She draws in a slow breath and finally exhales, letting her arms fall to her sides.

Then she turns and walks out.

By the end of the day, Mel still felt unsteady from everything that had happened. Her feet were heavy with each step, her body ready to shut down. She was at her locker, methodically packing her things, when Trinity approached.

“Mel. Look, I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to make you upset,” Trinity said, leaning against the locker beside her. Her posture was guarded, half-apologetic, half-defensive.

“It wasn’t my feelings I was worried about,” Mel replied quietly, not looking at her, focused instead on digging through her backpack.

Trinity hesitated. “Can I just ask? What is it about Langdon that you like so much? It can’t be his sparkling personality. He’s a big boy, he can take care of himself. But you follow him around like you’re trying to fix—”

The slam of Mel’s locker echoed through the hallway, cutting her off. The silence that followed was sharp and immediate.

“I did it again, didn’t I?” Trinity whispered, staring down at her feet.

Mel took a breath, trying to keep the anger from rising again. “Sorry. It’s just been a long day. But yes..you did. Implying I’m only around Dr. Langdon to fix him? That’s an insult. To him, and to me.”

Trinity’s expression shifted, more open now. Mel turned to face her, shoulders still tense but her voice steady.

“I hate when people question the choices I make. I’ve been my sister’s full-time caregiver since I was twenty. I put myself through college and med school. I know how to make decisions for myself.”

“I’m not saying you don’t, Mel. Really,” Trinity said, starting to reach for her arm, then pulling back.

“Then believe me when I tell you I’m not trying to fix him, Trinity. He’s fixing himself. I’m just making sure he doesn’t have to do it alone.”

Trinity blinked, nodding slowly as she looked away, running a hand through her hair. “Okay. Okay, I get it. I suck.”

Mel let out a tired breath, rolling her eyes. “Now you’re being dramatic.”

A soft chuckle slipped out, despite everything. There was a lot to like about Trinity once she let you past her sharp edges, but those edges still needed softening. Mel didn’t want her to feel like she couldn’t talk to her.

“Just... try to remember. He might not be your friend, but he’s mine. And I don’t like being forced to choose between friends. So please, don’t put me there.”

Trinity crossed her arms, nodding with more sincerity this time. “Okay. I’m sorry. I’ll try. I won’t be good at it, but I’ll try.”

Mel smiled, a small but genuine lift in her expression. The knot in her chest loosened just a bit.

She was turning to leave when Trinity added, “I actually kind of like watching you snap. It’s like seeing a unicorn.”

Mel looked back at her, blinking. “I don’t know how I’m synonymous with a unicorn, but... thank you. I think.”

Chapter Text

There weren’t many times Mel felt physically mad at Langdon but when she did, it was almost always because he put himself in danger for her. She wasn’t oblivious to the tactic. She still shudders when she thinks about the time a patient swung at her and Langdon stepped in—taking the blow straight to the jaw instead.

He does it all the time, not just putting his job in jeopardy to defend her pride, but putting himself in harm's way.

She gets so mad at him for it.

And yet… she never stays mad long. Usually, after a while of him groveling for forgiveness, batting those criminally blue eyes, she folds. How can she not appreciate a knight in slightly dented armor?

It happens again on a chaotic fall afternoon, with Pittsburgh deep in football season. Fans are streaming into the ER after bar fights or brawls in the stadium stands. Mel tries to find it funny like everyone else does—seeing jerseys from rival teams heckling each other but mostly, it’s just exhausting. It is how she found out Frank isn’t the biggest fan either. 

That had surprised her. He once admitted he played nearly every sport in high school except football. He left that for his brothers.

She’s in the middle of reviewing a patient’s chart with Langdon when they both hear raised voices something escalating.

A man barrels out of one of the rooms, yelling back over his shoulder. She barely has time to register what’s happening before Langdon’s voice cuts through.

“Mel, look out!”

She turns just in time to feel his hand push her aside before the charging man slams into him. The force drives Langdon straight into the edge of the nurse’s station, his lower back taking the full brunt before collapsing onto the floor.

“Frank!” she gasps, already rushing to him.

He’s flat on his back, panting hard through his nose. The anger flashes in her, familiar and sharp. How dare he do this again? It vanishes as soon as she sees his eyes. Wide, glassy, panicked.

“Langdon, are you okay?” she asks, kneeling beside him. Her hands hover above him, not sure where it’s safe to touch. He doesn’t answer. Just stares at the ceiling, his face pale and drawn.

He shuts his eyes tightly, his breathing quickening in short, controlled bursts.

“I need you to talk to me. What’s hurting?” she whispers, leaning in.

“My back,” he exhales, finally. His eyes open and find hers, raw and uncertain. “My back,” he says again, the words brittle, cracking at the edges.

“Hey, hey—it’s okay.” Her hands move now, one smoothing gently over his hair, applying a calm pressure. “Just focus on breathing.”

He stares at her, eyes fixed on hers like they’re the only thing grounding him. With each pass of her hand through his hair, he tries to sync his breathing to the rhythm. Slow, steady, deliberate.

The moment is broken between them when Dr. Robby kneels down beside them. 

“Frank?” he says cautiously.

Langdon stiffens, his gaze dragging from Mel to Robby. “Do you need to get looked at?”

Frank hesitates. His eyes dart between them, flickering with emotions she can’t read. Then he nods once, silent, and looks back at the ceiling.

Mel watches the shift happen—the wall going up. He’s trying to hide how scared he is.

“He said his back hurts,” she tells Robby quietly. She glances at Frank, unsure if he’ll see that as overstepping. But he doesn’t move, doesn’t respond.

“Then let’s get him off the floor,” Robby says evenly, motioning to Donnie and Jesse. “Take him to Central 15.”

“Be careful of his lower back,” Mel adds quickly as the two nurses ease Frank up. They loop his arms over their shoulders, supporting his weight carefully around his waist. He says nothing, but she’s counting his breaths. In for five, out for five.

With every step, he winces. His fingers clutch their scrubs, knuckles bleached white. She trails behind them, watching him try not to fall apart as they make their way into the empty room. 

“Langdon, Brother.” Donnie jokes gently, trying to lighten the mood. “Didn’t you play football? Gotta keep your head up.”

Any other day, Frank might have chuckled. But now he only hisses through his teeth as they lower him onto the bed. “Well, I’m sorry I didn’t play in high school specifically to be prepared for when a 250-pound fucking linebacker mowed me down in the ER fifteen years later.”

“Okay, Langdon. Language,” Robby chides, though the hint of a smile pulls at his mouth.

Mel watches as everyone talks over one another, Robby issuing instructions, Donnie cracking jokes, Jesse checking vitals. But Frank is quiet. Too quiet.

His eyes are shut tight, his face scrunched in pain. His chest rises and falls in shallow, rapid bursts. One hand comes up to his face, palm covering his eyes, fingers pressing hard into his temples.

She can see him silently spiraling but everyone’s focus seems to be on each other. 

“Can I have a moment alone with Dr. Langdon?” Her voice cuts through the chaos, firm, unwavering.

The room falls silent. Robby glances between her and Frank, then nods. “Yeah. Sure.” He motions for the nurses to follow him out.

The door clicks shut behind them.

She pulls the stool close to the bed and sits, watching him. He doesn’t move. His body is still drawn tight, jaw clenched, shoulders rigid.

“You’re not okay, are you?” she says softly.

No response. Just the faintest shake of his head.

“You don’t have to open your eyes,” she continues, gentler now. “Just listen to my voice. That’s all.”

A barely visible nod.

She leans in, her voice a whisper between them. “Right now… what’s not okay? Physical or mental?”

There is a long pause and then slowly, he lifts one trembling finger and taps it against his temple.

Her chest tightens. “Would you like me to help you?” she asks quietly.

This time, he lowers his hand and turns his head toward her. His eyes meet hers, bright, aching, and completely exposed.

“Please,” he whispers.

She feels the corners of her lips lift into a soft smile and gives him a gentle nod. Sitting up straighter, she clears her throat, thinking for a moment before deciding to go with something that helps her, hoping it might help him too.

“Okay. How about we play a game? It’s a word association thing I do when I get lost in my head. Helps ground me. I’ll say a word, and you tell me the first word that comes to mind. People usually work best for me.”

Frank’s gaze stays on her, tight with tension, but his breathing has started to slow. He blinks a few times, then tilts his head just slightly toward her. It’s enough of a yes.

She presses on. “Like… if you said Becca, I’d say sister. If you said Javani, I’d say prodigy. Got it? Want to give it a try?”

He glances up at the ceiling, then back at her. His hand inches toward hers. She grabs it without hesitation, threading their fingers together and pulling her stool as close to the bed as possible.

“Alright. I’ll go easy. Dana?”

  “Ringleader.”

“Dr. Abbot?”

  “Scary.”

“Dr. Shen?”

  “Zen.”

“Dr. Collins?”

  “Big sister.”

“Dr. Mohan?”

  “Little sister.”

“Dr. McKay?”

  “Survivor.”

“Tanner and Maddie?”

  “Pride and joy.”

“Abby?”

  “…Failed.”

“Mel?”

  “Strength.”

“Frank?”

  “Scared.”

His gaze drops, breaking the connection between them. She squeezes his hand, holding on, and waits until his eyes drift back to hers.

With a grimace, he slowly shifts to his side, facing her. “This is how it started last time, Mel,” he whispers. “Just something as simple as throwing my back out.”

Her frown is soft, sympathetic. She reaches up to run her hand through his hair, brushing his bangs from his face. It’s a habit she’s picked up, one he’s given her permission for, even if it's usually reserved for quieter moments away from work. But now, she sees the uncertainty in his eyes and can’t resist offering comfort.

“It’s okay,” she says gently. “We’ll take it one step at a time. Right now, I think most of the pain is just from the impact. There’s definitely going to be some bruising, but that’s an easy fix. We’ll get an X-ray, or maybe an MRI, just to make sure there’s nothing more serious going on.”

She pauses, giving the words space to settle.

“If the over-the-counter meds aren’t enough, we’ll take the next step carefully, ” she adds, her tone deliberate, mindful of the fine line between reassurance and alarm.

He blinks, and a single tear slips down his cheek. His voice is almost inaudible. “What if I fail? I can’t lose everything again.”

She leans in, eyes locked on his. “Hey. Hey, Frank, look at me. Don’t go there.”

She brushes away the tear with her thumb, voice low and steady. “I don’t know if anyone’s told you this yet, but it’s something I learned from watching my dad: relapsing doesn’t mean you failed. It means you fell. Failing is when you choose not to get back up.”

His eyes close tight, holding back the rest of the tears. She waits patiently for him to open them again. 

“If you fall,” she continues, “and you need help getting up, don’t be afraid to ask for help. It sounds like you have a lot of people in your life to support you.”

“They were there last time,” he murmurs.

“But last time you didn’t let them,” she says softly. “Don’t make the same mistake again.”

She squeezes his hand again.

“Let them help you. Let me help you.”

She knows Frank understands where he went wrong. She’s learned that he likes being the one people need but doesn’t know how to handle being the one in need. She gets it on some level. But she also knows how much his actions affected everyone: Robby, Dana, Collins… even Samira. But last time she wasn’t here. She is here now and she would do whatever she could to make sure he doesn’t make the same mistake again. 

She watches him process her words. His expression shifts slowly, like something uncoiling inside him. Then he gives a small nod.

“Okay,” he says.

She smiles, just a little. “It’s gonna be okay, Frank.”

He tries to return it. It’s thin and a little crooked, but it’s real. They let the silence stretch between them, steady and grounding, until his breath levels out again.

Then he exhales. “I really hate football.”

Mel chuckles, catching the line for what it is; a thread he’s throwing out to tether himself back.

“Maybe now you’ll finally stop putting yourself in danger for me,” she says, already knowing what’s coming next.

He turns to her, that familiar grin flickering to life, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Not a chance.”

Chapter Text

“Hello?”

“Mel, hey. It’s Dr. Robby.”

It’s the first true day off Mel has had in what feels like forever. Becca is taken care of at North Hills for the day. Everyone else, Frank included, is working. The laundry is done. The errands were finally crossed off the list. She’s even managed to crack open the book that’s been sitting untouched on her nightstand for months, waiting.

So when her phone rings late in the afternoon and her boss’s name lights up the screen, her eyebrows lift in concern.

“Dr. Robby? Um… is everything okay?” she asks, slowly closing her book and setting it aside.

“I’m sorry to bother you on your day off,” he says, and Mel immediately straightens, sensing something off in his tone.

“It’s alright. Do you need me to come in?” she offers, already reaching for the blanket draped across her lap.

“No, no—nothing like that,” he reassures quickly. “The department’s fine. I just… I need a favor.”

“Of course,” she says, brows knitting. “What is it?”

Dr. Robby lets out a heavy sigh before continuing, his voice dropping to a lower, more cautious tone, quiet enough to be discreet but still clear in her ear.

“We had a case today. A young girl. Accidental overdose. Came in with her brother. About Tanner and Maddie’s age.”

Mel’s heart clenches. She already knows where this is going. Frank.

“We couldn’t save her,” he continues quietly. “And it hit Langdon really hard. He was completely out of it afterward. I had to send him home early. Dr. Abbott dropped him off, but… I’m kind of worried. I’ve tried calling, but he’s not answering. Think you could try to reach him?”

“Absolutely,” Mel says without hesitation.

“Thank you, Mel. I really am sorry to do this to you on your day off,” he adds.

But Mel is already on her feet, her mind shifting into motion. “It’s not a problem, Robby. I’ll try him now.”

“Keep me posted if you can.”

As soon as she hangs up with Robby, Mel is already dialing Frank’s number. She paces the length of her living room, nail pressed between her teeth, her mind racing. By the third unanswered call, her patience snaps. She grabs her bag, locks up, and heads straight for her car.

A tight, electric current snakes under her skin, needling every nerve like adrenaline trapped with no release. She grips the steering wheel tightly, her foot tapping anxiously as she hits every red light. She tries calling him again. And again. Each time, the call rings through to voicemail.

“Please just be sleeping,” she mutters under her breath, over and over, like a prayer. 

By the time she reaches his place, her fingers are clenched around the spare key so tightly her knuckles are white. She hurries up the walkway to his door. Just before she touches the lock, she hears soft, rapid scratching followed by a whimper. Buddy.

The moment the key slides into the lock, she turns the knob in one swift motion—and the goldendoodle immediately bumps into her leg, barking up at her with frantic energy. He rears up on his hind legs, paws landing hard on her arms.

“Buddy—hey, hey, easy,” she says, wincing as his nails scrape her forearm. She gives him a quick head pat to calm him, then gently pushes him off so she can swing the door shut behind her. When she turns back, Buddy is facing the hallway, tail low, eyes flicking between her and whatever is behind him.

The apartment is still. The open layout kitchen and family room sit empty.

She crouches beside the dog, running both hands over his soft head, fingers smoothing along his ears and down his neck.

“It’s okay,” she whispers, gently resting a hand on his head, grounding them both.

“Where’s Frank, Buddy?” she asks softly. “Can you show me where he is?”

Buddy bows his head, gently catches the edge of her jacket sleeve between his teeth, and tugs. Mel lets him lead her down the hallway toward the door at the end. She hesitates at the corner, then steps into the doorway and stops when she sees Frank sitting on the edge of the bed.

And when she really looks at him, her heart breaks wide open.

He doesn’t look okay. It’s like he came home, sat down, and never moved again. He’s still in his scrubs and work shoes, the faint antiseptic tang of the hospital clinging to him, laced with something metallic and cold. His shoulders slump forward, like the weight of simply existing is too much. Both hands hang limp at his sides, fingers splayed on the comforter. His eyes are glazed, distant, staring through the wall just past her as if he’s not even in the room.

Buddy releases her sleeve and pads toward Frank, his soft whimpers echoing through the silence like they’re amplified by the stillness. Mel watches as the dog nudges his nose against Frank’s hand, gently insisting on a response. But Frank stays frozen. He doesn’t even react to the physical touch.

Mel runs a hand over her hair, then brings it to her face, cupping her chin as she tries to decide what to do. His eyes are distant and glassy, but there’s no sign of drug use. No heavy eyelids, no sluggish movements, no slurred murmurs on his breath. That’s something, at least. Right now, he looks dissociated, lost somewhere deep in his own mind. Which means she has to pull him back somehow. 

She walks slowly to them and kneels beside Buddy, getting herself level with Frank. The vacant, far-off look in his eyes makes her chest tighten, but she pushes past it. Bracing herself, she places both hands on his shoulders.

“Langdon… Frank, can you hear me?” she says gently, giving his shoulders a small shake.

With no response, she hesitates, unsure of what to do next. She’s read about dissociation, maybe even experienced it a few times herself, but she’s never had to guide someone else through it. Still, seeing Frank like this... so empty, so distant… it lights something in her. Determination. She leans in, sharper now.

“Frank... FRANK, COME ON.”

She raises her voice and slaps one cheek firm enough to hopefully cause a jolt. Her other hand cups his opposite cheek, thumb pressing against his pulse point. It’s steady. That calms her, but only slightly. The stillness between them feels wrong, hollow.

She hears Buddy’s nails clicking against the hardwood as he pads out of the room, but she barely registers it. Her focus stays locked on Frank.

Mel leans in closer, needing to bridge the distance between them, needing him to feel that he’s not alone. She brings her face close to his, so close she can see the faint tremble in his lashes, the hollowness in his stare. Then, slowly, she lowers her head until her forehead rests just above his chin, anchoring herself there, where she can feel the gentle warmth of his breath brushing against her skin. It’s not much. But it’s something. And right now, she thinks she needs this just as much as he does.

“Frank,” she whispers. “Come on. Come back to us.”

She closes her eyes, trying to recall everything she knows about grounding techniques: Sensory reorientation, physical contact, anything to break through the fog. Before she can act, Buddy returns. He hops onto the bed beside Frank and drops something into his lap with a soft thud.

Mel opens her eyes and looks down.

A small, well-loved stuffed animal.

She stares at it. Then back to Frank. Then the toy again.

A smile tugs at her mouth. She reaches for Buddy’s face and kisses the top of his head. “You are a genius, Buddy.”

She glances around and spots Frank’s phone on the nightstand. Picking it up, she unlocks it with ease, her fingers moving with quiet purpose. A few taps, and she finds the number she’s looking for. She presses call and lifts the phone to her ear, holding her breath as she counts each ring, waiting for the recipient to answer. 

“Hello?”

“Abby. Hi, this is Melissa King. I don’t know if you remember me,” she begins carefully.

They’ve met a couple of times in passing. Brief, polite exchanges that barely counted as conversation. Abby was still a sensitive subject when it came to Frank. Mel had been there to listen when he spoke about her, though those moments were rare and always carried a certain heaviness. It wasn’t just unfinished business that lingered. For Frank, it was failure. The kind that settled deep in the bones. Regret so thick it sometimes cracked his voice mid-sentence, even when he tried to pretend like it didn’t. 

The one thing he never hesitated to say was how grateful he was that Abby still worked with him. That he still got to see his kids. That part, at least, he hadn’t lost.

The first time Mel met Abby was when she came to pick up Tanner and Maddie one early morning shift. The encounter had been awkward and stiff until they found common ground, oddly enough, through their mutual concern for Frank. Abby had asked her outright if she could count on Mel to look after him since she no longer could.

At the time, Mel’s instinct was to bristle, but instead, she answered honestly. Frank could always count on her.

Abby had studied her a moment, unreadable, then gave a small nod. “I’m glad to hear it,” she said. Even now, Mel still wonders what she meant by that.

“Of course I remember you,” Abby says now, a thread of concern immediately threading into her voice. “Is everything okay? Is Frank okay?”

Mel exhales slowly. “Physically? Yes. But mentally… no. He’s at home, and he’s not doing well. Something happened at work today. A case involving a young girl, about Maddie’s age.”

She pauses, choosing her next words carefully. “It shook him, Abby. Badly. I think it hit too close to home. I’ve been trying to reach him, but he’s… withdrawn. Almost catatonic.”

“Oh my God…” Abby’s voice catches, barely above a whisper. Mel can hear the faint sound of pacing as her breathing falters.

“I was wondering if Tanner or Maddie might be available to talk?” Mel says gently, trying to head off the spiral of panic she knows is building. “I thought maybe hearing their voices could help bring him back a little.”

There’s a pause on the line. “Maddie’s down for her nap,” Abby says after a moment, “but let me get Tanner.”

“Thank you,” Mel says, relief washing through her. “I think hearing him could really help.”

She hears Abby sigh thoughtfully. “You’re not wrong. Frank used to call during really bad shifts. Sometimes at the worst times,” she adds with a sad chuckle. “But he always said he just needed to hear Tanner’s voice.”

Mel closes her eyes for a moment, imagining Frank alone in some dim hospital hallway, phone pressed to his ear, clinging to the sound of his son’s voice like a lifeline.

In the background, she hears floorboards creak as Abby walks, then the soft click of a door opening.

“Tanner, sweetie,” Abby calls gently,  her voice muffled. “Daddy needs a little help. Can you talk to his friend Mel?”

There’s a faint response, then a small voice comes clearly through the receiver. “Hello?”

Mel exhales slowly, steadying her voice. “Hi, Tanner. I’m not sure if you remember me—my name’s Mel. I’m a friend of your dad’s. Your mom told me you sometimes talk to him while he’s at work?”

“Yeah. Last time I sang him a song.”

“You did?” she says with a soft laugh, warmth blooming in her chest. “That’s wonderful. Do you think you could do it again? Your dad’s feeling a little sad right now, and he’s having a hard time talking. I think hearing your voice might really help him.”

“Okay,” Tanner replies easily, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. The purity in his voice tugs something deep in Mel’s chest.

“Awesome. I’m going to put you on speakerphone now. You sing whatever you want, okay? As loud and proud as you can; Just make sure your dad can hear you.”

She taps the speaker icon and lowers the phone toward Frank. Tanner’s voice chirps a cheerful hello before launching into a tune. Something joyfully off-key. Mel can’t make out the words, but it doesn’t matter. She inches the phone closer to Frank’s face and watches, hoping. 

And then it happens. A twitch. Just the faintest movement from Frank’s right hand. Her eyes snap to it, heart jumping.

“There we go,” she whispers. “Come on, Frank.”

“Keep going, Tanner!” she calls out, voice catching with sudden emotion. “It’s working!”

Tanner keeps singing, undeterred, his voice rising and wobbling through another verse. Mel stays close, eyes locked on Frank, holding her breath. Waiting for the next sign.

“Come on, Frank. I know you hear him,” she murmurs, not sure if it matters, but needing to say it anyway. Her gaze drops to the stuffed bear in his lap. Carefully, she reaches for his twitching hand and guides it to the plush toy, pressing his fingertips into its softness.

For a long moment, nothing happens, just the thin, off-key notes of Tanner’s little voice floating through the room like a thread. Then, beneath her touch, Frank’s fingers twitch again. Slowly, they curl around the bear, pulling it in closer to his body. His other hand shifts across the sheets to rest on his leg.

She looks up just in time to see his eyelids flutter, his back straighten, his chest rising and falling with deeper, more grounded breaths. Lost in the moment, she startles when she feels warmth close around her wrist. Frank’s hand. His grip is weak, but real.

She turns to find him staring at her, dazed, his eyes glassy and full of confusion.

“Mel?” he whispers hoarsely, gaze flicking between her tearful face and the phone still playing Tanner’s voice. “What’s going on?”

She shakes her head quickly, the hand not holding the phone rising to rest gently on his shoulder.

“It’s okay now,” she whispers, her voice steady despite the tears in her eyes. “You’re okay now.”

He holds her gaze, uncertainty etched into his expression, but slowly, he gives a small nod.

She turns back to the phone and brings it closer to her lips.

“Tanner, you did so well,” she says gently, voice full of warmth. “Your dad’s feeling better now, but I think he’d love to hear your voice just a little more. Thank you, Tanner. You were such a big help.”

“Daddy?” Tanner’s small voice calls out, hopeful.

Mel smiles and carefully places the phone into Frank’s hand. Her other hand lingers on his shoulder, then rises to cup the side of his neck, guiding his gaze back to hers.

“You were catatonic when I got here,” she says softly, steadying her voice, “but it’s okay now. You’re okay now. Just talk to your son. I’ll be here when you’re done.”

She brushes her thumb gently along the edge of his cheek, then gives his neck a quick, reassuring squeeze. With one last soft smile, she turns and steps out, pulling the bedroom door quietly closed behind her.

Walking into the family room, Mel squints against the sudden brightness pouring in through the windows. A jarring contrast to the dim, cold blue of Frank’s bedroom. She drops onto the arm of the couch and exhales hard, the weight of the last hour finally beginning to ease from her shoulders.

Sliding off the armrest, she lowers herself onto the floor, back pressed against the base of the sofa. She closes her eyes, trying to settle, but all she can see is that vacant look in Frank’s eyes. The image flashes so vividly in her mind that it startles her eyes open again.

A buzz in her pocket pulls her back. She shifts, lifting her hip enough to grab the phone,

“Perfect timing,” she mutters, answering without a greeting.

“You get through to him?” Robby asks, his voice still threaded with the same worry she’d heard earlier.

“Yeah,” she says, glancing back toward the hallway. “I came over to his place. He’s…” She hesitates, uncertain how much to share before Frank has had a chance to process it himself.

“Just tell me straight, Dr. King,” Robby urges gently.

“Well, first things first, he hasn’t relapsed.”

She hears a long exhale on the other end, like someone finally releasing a breath they’ve been holding for days. She can almost see Robby’s shoulders finally drop.

“That’s… that’s really good to hear,” he says, his voice catching slightly as he clears his throat. “Thank you.”

“You were right to be concerned, though. When I got here, he was in a dissociative state. Unresponsive to sound and touch. Completely checked out.” She pauses, running a hand down her face. “He’s okay now, I think. He came back a little while ago. He’s talking to Tanner now.”

There’s a pause on the other end. She brushes at a nonexistent speck on her pants, a quiet distraction while she waits for him to speak.

“We never should’ve left him alone,” he says finally, his voice threaded with regret.

Buddy pads over and settles beside her, resting his chin on her leg. She gives the dog a tired smile and runs her hand down his side, grateful for the steady weight of him.

“If it makes you feel any better,” she murmurs, “technically, he wasn’t alone. Buddy was waiting at the door when I got here, and he led me straight to him. Helped me figure out what Frank needed.” She glances down at the dog, voice softening. “He just really needed to hear his kid’s voice.”

“Thank you, Mel,” Robby says, the formality still there but looser now, like some of the weight’s been lifted. She knows he’s trying to keep it professional, but she hears what he’s not saying, too. This was his first real scare since Frank’s reinstatement. His first moment of doubt.

Mel gets it. She knows Robby took a risk, standing behind Frank, making sure he got his license back, and defending his return to the hospital. He has skin in the game. If Frank stumbles, Robby has something to lose.

Mel doesn’t. Not officially. But that’s exactly why she has to be the one they call. She can take that on. She wants to take it on.

“It’s not a problem,” she says, her voice steady. “I’ll always be here to help him.”

“I know you will,” he replies, quieter now.

There’s nothing more to say as the line stretches with unspoken understanding.

“See you at work, Mel.”

The call ends before she can respond.

She exhales and gives her head a small shake. That man really does have issues.

Setting her phone aside, she keeps one hand moving rhythmically over Buddy’s side, the dog still resting his head comfortably in her lap. The silence wraps around them like the body’s slow return to balance after a storm. Heavy, grounding, subdued. She shifts down slowly, sliding until she’s stretched out on the floor beside him, lying flat on her back, arm draped lazily across Buddy’s fur. Her eyes drift up to the ceiling. The world feels quieter here.

She hears the shower turn on down the hall and blindly reaches for her phone again to pass the time. A mindless game sucks her in for a while long enough that she’s startled when a familiar voice cuts through.

“Comfy?”

She turns her head and sees Frank leaning against the hallway wall, fresh from a much-needed shower. He’s changed out of his scrubs into a plain V-neck and sweatpants, barefoot, hair still dripping. He looks... better. Less haunted.

“What are you doing on the floor?” he asks, arms crossed with a faint, amused smile tugging at his mouth.

“I was giving Buddy some belly rubs. Didn’t feel like getting back up,” she says without moving. “He ditched me, though.”

She shifts her face towards him so her cheek lies on the hardwood floor. 

“Are you okay now?” she asks, voice low.

He drops his gaze, hair falling forward, water dripping from the ends as he gives a slow, almost reluctant nod. “For the most part…” he says quietly, his voice rough.

She watches the breath move through him. His shoulders rise and fall before he finally lifts his eyes to hers again.

“Thank you, Mel.”

Just three words, simple enough. But they land heavy, filled with all the things he isn’t saying. She holds his gaze, waiting to see if he’ll add more. When he doesn’t, she lets out an exaggerated sigh and rolls her eyes.

Then, tapping the floor beside her, she grins. “Well? Come on.”

With a weary groan, Frank lowers himself beside her, bodies stretched out in opposite directions, heads side by side. They lie still, staring at the ceiling, the kind of silence that comes only after the world has wrung you dry. Quiet, heavy, and strangely calming.

“I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck,” he whispers. His gaze stays upward, but his voice is heavy, worn thin by the weight of the day.

“A common side effect of dissociation,” Mel replies with a shrug. She shifts slightly, the fabric of her shirt catching on the floor before settling as her shoulders sink back down.

He scoffs. “Is that what happened?”

She shoots him a glare, unimpressed, which only makes his lip twitch with a fleeting smirk. Then a sigh slips out. “I know. It’s never been that bad before.”

Mel bites her lip in thought, then bends her arm and stretches out her pinky to lightly tap his temple. “Well… the similarities of gender and age between your kids and the victim and sibling, as well as your history with drugs, could’ve easily triggered an acute stress reaction.”

It makes sense. Everyone has their triggers. For Mel, it’s family trauma. Sisters. Orphaned kids. Anything that echoes Becca. Some cases just lodged deeper, lingered longer. She often wondered what Franks were. He hadn’t lost a child, thank God, but that didn’t make watching a young girl code any easier, especially when she resembled Maddie. And now, with his addiction still fresh in the rearview, Mel had to wonder if overdose cases hit harder than before.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “It’s possible. God… she was on the table, and all I could see was Maddie. Once she coded, I just…. I couldn’t do anything. I think Robby ended up talking to the parents.”

Mel glances over at him. He’s staring blankly at the ceiling, but she can see the subtle dart of his eyes, restless and unfocused, chasing down thoughts faster than he can catch them.

“I don’t even remember leaving,” he whispers. “Or how I got here.”

“Apparently, Dr. Abbot dropped you off,” she says gently. “Robby tried calling, but you weren’t answering. So he called me instead. Figured I might have better luck.”

“Shit... and then you had to call Abby.” He groans and drags a hand over his face, covering his eyes. “I really fucked up, didn’t I?”

“No.” The word comes out too loud, sharper than she meant. He flinches, and she exhales, rolling onto her side to face him. “No, Frank. You didn’t.”

She waits for him to lower his hand and meet her eyes. “It is completely normal for us to be mentally affected by what we see every day. Some cases roll off. Others stick. Sometimes they hit harder than we expect.”

His eyes flick toward her, still guarded, and she softens her voice. “You’re not the same person you were when we met. You feel things more now, maybe differently. And that’s not a flaw.  Honestly, I think you’ve always been sensitive. You’re just finally letting yourself show it.”

She catches the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and for a brief second, she wonders if he’s thinking about that afternoon in the break room, the one she still carries with her. The first time someone told her, without hesitation, that being sensitive wasn’t something she had to hide. 

“You never made me feel like it was a bad thing,” she adds quietly. “So maybe… give yourself the same grace. You said it yourself, the ED needs people like that. Badly.”

He shifts to mirror her, rolling onto his side. One arm bends beneath his head like a pillow as he turns to face her. Mel feels the weight of his gaze, steady and quiet, and meets it without flinching. She wants to reach out, brush the damp strands of hair falling into his eyes, but instead, her thumb drifts to her mouth, teeth worrying at the nail.

“What if I can’t do this anymore?” he whispers, so softly she almost misses it.

“You can’t think like that,” she says quickly, the words spilling out before she can temper them. This time, she doesn’t hold back and lifts her hand, brushing the hair gently from his eyes. The touch is gentle and brief, careful not to linger.

“Frank, you are one of the strongest people I know. But even the strongest are allowed to break.”

“And on the days that I do?” he asks, eyes locked on hers. There’s pain there. But something else too. Hope, maybe. 

She reaches for him again. Their fingers meet in the narrow space between them, curling together. “Then I’ll be strong for you.”

His brows twitch, like he wants to argue but doesn’t.

“You shouldn’t have to do that,” he murmurs.

“You’d do it for me, wouldn’t you?”

The silence that settles between them is thick but not uncomfortable. It’s weighted with everything they’re not saying, and all the things they already know. Mel could stay like this forever, lying there in the quiet, being what he needs. An anchor. A tether. A steady place to land.

“Can we just lie here a little longer?”

“We can stay as long as you want.”

Mel watches as a soft hum settles over Frank’s face. Slowly, he rolls onto his back, stretching out beside her again, but keeps his head turned toward her, his gaze steady. After a moment, his eyes drift shut, as if the quiet between them is finally enough to let him breathe. His face is just a breath away from hers. With each exhale, she feels the faint tickle of his hair against her lips, but she doesn’t move. Instead, she inches a little closer.

“You know you’re more than just my best friend, right?” he murmurs, eyes still closed, voice quiet but certain.

A soft smile tugs at her lips as she shifts closer, letting her forehead rest right on top of his chin. 

“I know,” she whispers.

He leans in, placing a kiss on her forehead with calm intent. Her smile deepens, hidden beneath the fall of his hair, as they lie there in the quiet, wrapped in stillness and something that feels like peace.

Chapter Text

It’s one of those mornings when Mel and Langdon don’t carpool together, and she hates to admit how much it throws her off. It’s his turn with the kids this week, which means morning drop-offs while she does the routine with Becca on her own. She misses the quiet drive, the shared glances, the easy conversation, the way his presence softens the edges of her day before it even starts. Without it, she’s on autopilot, going through the motions while trying not to dwell on the low, familiar ache that feels like she’s missing a limb.

By the start of her shift at 7 a.m., she’s already at Central Bay, double-checking her carryover from the night shift. Her attention is deep in her tablet when she suddenly feels the sharp chill of something cold and wet pressing against her neck. She flinches hard, heart skipping, and whips around only to find Langdon beside her, a Red Bull in hand and that infuriating smirk on his face.

“Sorry, Mel, didn’t mean to scare you.”

She narrows her eyes, unimpressed. “The only thing that scares me are your manners.”

“Was that a Mummy reference?”

“Thought you might like that,” She smirks faintly, turning back to her tablet. “Becca’s on a Brendan Fraser kick.”

“How could I not? Solid lineup. Can I put in a request for the next movie night?”

“You’re asking the wrong person,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “You know that.”

Frank dips his head in exaggerated seriousness. He’s been to enough movie nights to know Becca runs the show. Mel had worried, at first, about introducing him to Becca. Becca’s routines don’t tolerate sudden changes, especially after long days. But from the first night, it was clear: Becca liked Frank.

He didn’t talk down to her. Didn’t get awkward when she needed extra time to process a scene or rewind a line of dialogue. He asked questions, listened to her rants, and gave her space when she needed it. And in her blunt, unmistakable way, Becca made it clear he was expected to come back. Every time.

Now they had a rhythm. Frank brought bizarre snacks that Becca either hated or adopted as her new favorite. The two of them argued over plot holes and theme songs while Mel got to just sit back and watch the two people she loved most banter like siblings. The noise, the warmth, the familiarity, it felt like something she hadn’t realized she’d been craving until it was right in front of her.

The way Frank slipped into their lives so naturally. The way he treated Becca was with real, quiet respect, not performative patience. The way he treated her, with the same kind of care. He listened when she spoke. Thought before he answered. Trusted her in ways he didn’t trust most people. They meet each other in that quiet space, steady and unspoken, and something in her always settles when he’s near.

“All right, all right,” Frank says, stretching his neck a little before glancing up at the monitor. “How are we looking today?”

Mel opens her mouth to reply when a voice cuts across the bay.

“Last thing. Look out for Behavioral. They’re supposed to be coming down today for our teenage overdose from last night. He’s still in psych holding on suicide watch.” Abbot’s rough voice carries easily as he and Robby approach from the far side of Central, pulling both Mel and Frank’s attention toward them.

Robby takes the tablet from the night attending, frowning as he skims the notes. “Really?”

“Yeah. Pretty rough case,” Abbot says, his tone more subdued now. “We got him stable, but it was definitely intentional.”

Mel glances toward Frank, already feeling a subtle shift in the air. She expects a reaction. A question. A comment. Something. But Frank isn’t looking at either of them.

He’s already turned toward the psych holding room near the ambulance bay.

Mel follows his line of sight and sees a teenage boy move slowly past the glass window, his head down, shoulders hunched like he’s folding in on himself. Everything about him radiates defeat.

“That’s him,” Abbot says. “Parents said he got into some trouble at school. Suspension. Lost a scholarship. Doesn’t sound like they are telling the whole story though.” 

The two older men exchange a look before Abbot answers with a shrug to move on. “They left earlier but said they’d come back later. Hopefully, Behavioral gets here soon. He’ll be more comfortable upstairs than stuck down here.”

Mel hears Abbot continue, giving Robby some additional updates, but her focus stays on Frank. There’s something about the way he’s holding himself that tugs at her. He’s too still, like he’s concentrating too hard on looking normal. His arms hang loose at his sides, but his jaw tightens. No blinking. No reaction. Just staring.

She steps in close and gently cups his elbow, brushing her fingers there just enough to get his attention. He blinks like he’s returning from somewhere far away and meets her eyes. She lifts a brow in silent question.

He gives her a small, tight smile. One that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“We should probably get started for the day,” he says.

Mel nods, but she doesn’t look away from him right away. Not until he turns back toward the monitors. 

The shift moves forward the way it always does, bodies in motion, charts being updated, vitals called out from rooms, nurses coordinating across the bay. It’s busy, but manageable. The kind of steady hum that comes with a midweek shift, where nothing is technically on fire but everything still demands attention. It helps a little. Keeps Mel’s hands moving and her thoughts from spiraling. Still, every so often, her eyes drift across the bay to find Frank. 

He’s going through the motions like the rest of them. He jokes with Dana when she slides a Red Bull across the counter. Makes some offhand comment about blood sugar and caffeine dependency. From a distance, he looks fine. But Mel knows better.

She tried to brush off the look on his face earlier. Told herself it was just a lingering concern. But the tension never really left.  She finds herself watching for him without meaning to, quietly tracking his whereabouts.

The whispers from the nurses don’t help. Throughout the day, she catches snippets of conversation of quiet gossip about the patient in psych holding. The teenage boy from this morning. Isaac.

He was a rising star. Starting quarterback. Bright future. Then a failed drug test, a revoked scholarship, a suspension. The details shift depending on who’s talking, but the shape of the story stays the same. A kid who had everything lined up until it all fell apart.

If the rumors are true, her heart aches for him. A mistake followed by a free fall of consequences. The kind that spirals before anyone has time to intervene. Maybe that’s what stuck with Frank. Maybe it hit a little too close. A boy too young, too familiar in the wrong ways. 

By early afternoon, five hours have passed in a blur of triage and checkboxes, but the unease still simmers underneath. Mel is just stepping back inside after a quick call with Becca, brushing the outside air from her skin, when she sees Frank standing in the hallway. His gaze is fixed on the psych room just off the ambulance bay.

“Frank?” she calls gently, curiosity in her voice. “What’s the matter?”

“Isaac is gone.” He mutters. She steps beside him and sees what he is talking about. The psych room is empty.  Sheets rumpled, door slightly open, but no sign of the patient.

“Oh, I guess Behavioral finally came down,” Mel offers.

“I don’t know. I thought I heard Dana tell Robby it would still be a few hours.” Frank’s voice is low, distracted. He glances at her, then turns back toward the empty room. His shoulders shift with a restless energy that has her standing straighter.

“Something feels wrong.” He says quietly, more to himself than her. 

He moves quickly, dropping his tablet at the nurse’s station before sweeping through the central bay, checking behind curtains, and peeking into empty rooms. Whatever instinct is driving him, it’s hitting her now, too. The unease in him spreads like a ripple. Mel finds herself mirroring him, eyes scanning the floor for any sign of Robby or Dana. Anyone who might be able to ease their worry..

Then Frank stops abruptly. Turns on his heel, eyes narrowing toward something just out of sight.

“Frank?” she calls. 

He doesn’t answer right away. But then his eyes grow large with worry as he says something low and tense, “Oh shit. Found him.”

He speed-walks into Trauma 2. Mel follows on instinct, heart pounding, but stops short beside him when she spots Isaac, hunched at the back of the room, hands rifling through a sterile surgical tray. He’s already opened part of the kit. And then he lifts a scalpel. Just stares at it, turning the blade slowly between his fingers.

Frank steps forward, cautious. His voice is quiet, almost casual. “Hey, bud. This room’s off limits. Let’s get you out of here, yeah?”

The boy doesn’t answer him, though, just keeps watching the scalpel like it’s the solution he’s looking for. The thought makes Mel’s stomach drop. Her limbs go cold. Frank must feel it too, because his voice sharpens. “Come on. No need for that. Let’s put the scalpel down before someone gets hurt.”

Isaac turns sharply and brings the scalpel up, only to place it against his neck. 

Both Frank and Mel shout in alarm, freezing in place. Frank instinctively steps forward but catches himself. Mel’s body wants to move, wants to intervene, but she forces herself to stay still. The danger is real. Immediate. And anything could make it worse.

“Wait, Isaac!” Frank says sharply, palms lifting in a calming gesture. “That’s your name, right? Isaac. Come on. You don’t want to do that.”

“You don’t know what I want,” Isaac whispers bitterly, his voice thick with pain.

“Maybe not. But I might surprise you,” Frank says carefully. “Just.. You gotta talk to me, man. Let us help you.” 

He takes a chance to move one step toward him. Mel follows almost without thinking. Her body moves before her mind catches up. 

She has never been in a situation like this. Never felt this helpless. There’s no textbook for this, no perfect script to follow. All she knows is that she trusts Frank. She always has since their first shift. Even when the truth came out about the drugs and the stealing, a part of her never wavered. The guilt and regret in his eyes when he came back from rehab only solidified what she already knew. He made mistakes, but his heart had always been in the right place. She never second-guessed his instincts when it came to patients. This time is no different, so she will follow his lead. 

But Isaac suddenly shifts, lifting the scalpel higher in their direction. “Stop right there. Don’t come any closer.”

Frank immediately moves back, placing himself between Isaac and Mel, blocking Isaac from her view. She grabs onto his scrub top, needing to touch him physically. She takes half a step back, trying to pull him with her in a quiet, protective retreat.

She can’t really see Isaac anymore, just glimpses of movement that Frank’s body doesn’t hide. The shine of the blade, the tension in the teenager’s arms. She stands on her toes to see over Frank’s shoulder, noticing the scalpel is back at his neck. 

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Isaac says, voice shaking but rising. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

Mel’s heart twists at the sound of it. That kind of pain. That kind of certainty. She wants to say something, to ease the desperation in his voice, but Frank speaks first, keeping his tone low and steady.

“What was it supposed to be like?” he asks.

“Frank.” She whispers in warning. He reaches back and finds her hand without turning, giving her fingers a firm squeeze.

“Stop pretending like you understand,” Isaac snaps. “You don’t understand.”

“I might,” Frank replies, his voice calm, free of judgment. He keeps himself positioned carefully between Isaac and Mel, but he inches forward, slow and deliberate. 

“My name is Dr. Langdon, but you can call me Frank.” He starts in an attempt to connect. “I know it doesn’t look like it, but I have felt what you are feeling before. If you give me a chance to explain.”

Mel watches Isaac closely now.  She can see Isaac processing his thoughts. His breathing is uneven, but his gaze is locked on Frank. Contemplating whether he wanted to take Frank up on his offer, trying to decide if he could believe him. Like maybe, somewhere deep in all that fear, he wants to.

She glances out the glass window and spots movement. Dana, Robby, and Ahmad are approaching fast, and behind them, a small crowd is starting to form. The energy shift is immediate. Eyes are beginning to turn.

“Looks like we’re about to have company,” she whispers, tugging the back of Frank’s scrub top gently.

Isaac stiffens. “Who is that?” he snaps, his voice sharp with suspicion. His eyes darted toward the sound. Mel took note that Isaac forgot in a span of a few minutes that he and Frank weren’t the only ones in the room. The tunnel vision, the panic. 

Frank’s body tenses beside her. “It’s okay,” he says, his tone calm as he tries to draw Isaac’s attention back. The protective line he’s drawing between her and the knife is starting to grate against every instinct she has. The longer she hides behind him, the worse it feels. 

With one heavy breath, she steps to the side, hands up, palms visible.

“Hello. My name is Dr. Melissa King,” she says, her voice steady even as her pulse races.

She can see Frank wanting to step as close to her as possible, wanting to put her behind him again, but she stops him, gathering courage to look towards Isaac.

“I just want to help you,” she adds, softer now, trying to match Frank’s tone. To make Isaac as comfortable as possible. 

“No,” he shouts, voice breaking. “I don’t want help. They shouldn’t have brought me back.”

“I hear you, Isaac,” she says, slow and gentle, choosing her words carefully. “But right now, security and other doctors are going to be coming in here, and it is going to get loud and chaotic, and I don’t think you want that, do you?” 

“No.” He says quietly.  His eyes flick up to the ceiling and squeeze shut, like it hurts just to be here. Like it’s too much.

“What if it was just you and me?” Frank offers then, quietly but firmly, drawing both their attention. “What if Dr. King keeps everyone else out? Will you stay calm and talk to me?”

Isaac hesitates. His grip on the scalpel tightens just slightly. Then his voice cracks through the silence, desperate and trembling.

“Why do you even care?” he asks, barely above a whisper. “You don’t even know me.”

Frank doesn’t flinch. He lifts one hand slightly, a quiet gesture of empathy. “I don’t have to know you to care, Isaac. You’re hurting. I’m a doctor. Let me help.”

They wait on stilled breath as the young boy contemplates before nodding his head. 

Mel’s chest tightens. She bites her lip, not sure if she wants to cry or scream as she glares at the man next to her. Frank is putting himself in danger and asking her to walk away. She hates it. Hates how much she understands it. 

He meets her eyes, then reaches for her gently, drawing her in until his mouth is close to her ear.

“I think I can get through to him,” he whispers.  “I just need a little time. He doesn’t want to hurt us. He just… needs help right now.”

His breath grazes her skin, warm and steady despite the tension around them. She closes her eyes, pressing her forehead to his shoulder, grounding herself there, caught in the internal battle between giving him what he’s asking for and keeping him safe.

When she lifts her head, she meets his eyes. “You better be careful,” she tells him, voice low and fierce.

Frank gives her the smallest nod.

Mel turns to Isaac, gives him a calm nod, raises her hands in a sign of surrender, and begins backing away. Slowly, she walks in reverse toward the door, kicking the foot stand at the bottom of the door out so it stays open, just in case they do need to rush in. Just a little protection she can offer.  

She doesn’t look away as she makes her way fully out of the room, Frank’s eyes are still on her. His face is tense, but he offers a small, false smile,  just enough to steady her, before turning back to Isaac.

She knows she should be doing something, but she stands there frozen, breath shaky as she continues to stare at Frank’s back. The heavy weight of a hand on her shoulder makes her jump with a gasp. She turns to the small crowd gathering around her, eyes landing on Robby’s, filled with concern.

“Mel, are you okay?” Robby asks urgently. 

She slowly nods, still attempting to get her bearings. But her body jolts into action when she sees Ahmad and another security guard heading for the door.

“No!” She yells, grabbing both of their arms and pulling them back. “No, you can’t go in there. Not yet.”

“Mel-” Robby starts. 

She shakes her head, sharp and insistent. Dana tries to soothe her, hands reaching for her arms, but Mel shrugs her off and steps firmly between the door and the others. “No, that was the deal. I leave and keep you out while Frank stays and tries to talk to him.”

“Absolutely not,” Robby dejects, stepping closer. “We go in now with security—”

“I know you’re not naive enough to think going in there prematurely won’t put both Isaac and Langdon at risk.”

“Dr. King,” he warns, his voice tense.

Mel crosses her arms over her chest, trying to decide whether to stand her ground or back down. The thought of Frank getting hurt is at the forefront of her mind, but he asked her to believe in him, and she wants to give him that. 

“Just give him a chance, Dr. Robby,” she says. Her voice is strong now. “I truly believe he can reach him. I saw it in there. Isaac’s listening to him. He wants to hear him out.” 

She remembers the way Isaac’s eyes kept drifting back to Frank. There was something there. Some sliver of hope.

“Mel, you have to understand why we can’t have a doctor alone in there with an aggressive suicidal patient.” He tries to reason.

“He’s not aggressive,” she says quietly. “Not really. He’s just sad.”

Robby’s jaw clenches. “What if you’re wrong? What if things go south? Do you know how much trouble we’ll all be in if we don’t follow protocol?”

“I don’t care about protocols,” she snaps. “I care that we’re doing everything we can to actually help him. That kid is screaming for help, and Frank wants to answer him. From the moment he came in this morning and overheard you and Dr. Abbot talking-” She trails off but holds Robby’s gaze, silently pleading with him to understand.

She knew what she was asking for, but Isaac’s pain and Frank’s quiet determination wouldn’t let her back down, regardless of whether she was asking for too much. 

“Mel-” He starts but stops short, running his hand through his hair in frustration. 

“We can have security ready,” Dana says, stepping in. “Station one on each side of the door. No sudden movements unless we absolutely have to.”

The guards nod in agreement.

“Mel is right, though. If you go in now, it will only endanger the patient and Dr. Langdon.” Trinity adds, coming up beside her. 

Mel blinks, momentarily caught off guard. Frank and Trinity still weren’t exactly comfortable with each other. They were cordial at best when it came to work. Of all people, she was the last Mel expected to step in on Frank’s behalf. But there she was, calm and steady beside her.

Mel gives her a small, appreciative nod before turning back to Dr. Robby, forcing herself to refocus. “We need Behavioral down here right now. He can’t wait any longer.”

Robby’s jaw flexes as he glances toward the psych room window, watching Frank’s silhouette, still steady and calm as he faces Isaac, who’s visibly struggling to hold it together.

“I don’t… I can’t,” He mutters, caught in his own mental battle.

Mel doesn’t waver. “You don’t have to be sure,” she says firmly. “But I am. He can do this. Just give him the chance.”

For a moment, no one speaks as the pressure builds in the air around them. 

“Fine. We’ll send someone up to Behavioral and drag someone here,” Robby says at last, jerking his head toward one of the nurses, who immediately moves to make the call.

Then, with a heavy sigh, he turns back to Mel. 

“Langdon has five minutes,” Robby says with a frustrated exhale. “Five minutes. No more.” 

Mel nods quickly, almost before he’s finished. “Thank you.”

“But I swear to God, one movement and we’re going in.” He warns, already signaling to one of the guards to post up just beside the door.

The other takes his place opposite, hands relaxed at his sides but alert.

Mel lets out an emotional breath, eyes stinging as the weight of it all settles on her chest. They still weren’t out of the woods. Not even close. She moves to stand beside Ahmad, planting her feet like it’ll help her stay upright, trying to hold herself together. Glancing up to the doorway to where she can still see Frank. Still hear the steady, low sound of his voice as it carries into the hall, calm against the rising storm inside the room. Just hearing him speak settles something shaky inside her, even now.

She feels someone watching her. Turns her head slightly to meet Ahmad’s gaze, warm and steady. He’s checking on her, silently asking if she’s okay. Mel tries to offer him a tight smile, but it falters before it forms. He gives her hand a quick squeeze before turning back when they hear Isaac’s voice start to rise. 

“STOP!” the boy yells. “Just stop.”

“Stop what, Isaac?” Frank’s voice is calm but firm, carrying easily through the open doorway.

“Stop acting like you care. You don’t care,” Isaac spits

“Of course I do,” Frank replies. 

“No, that is bullshit.” Isaac fires back, emotion twisting his words. “None of you know me for rat ass, so why the fuck would you care? I am just a stupid idiot who overdosed on sleeping pills to you guys.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is!” The words come out sharp, laced with anger, but his face is unraveling. Mel sees the tremble in his jaw, the way his bottom lip quivers before he squeezes his eyes shut, like he’s trying to hold everything in.

“I messed up so badly,” Isaac chokes out, like the guilt is pressing all the air from his lungs.

There’s a moment of silence before Frank speaks again, his voice lower now, stripped down and steady. “Isaac, I promise you, I know exactly how you feel.”

“I made a huge mistake too,” he says. “I did something incredibly stupid. I dug myself so far into a hole, I started to believe I wasn’t doing anything wrong. And I hurt a lot of people. I lost everything. My family. My job and trust….. So much trust.”

Mel ignores the tears sliding down her cheeks, instead keeping her focus solely on Frank. This wasn’t a speech. It wasn’t rehearsed. She knew this was something Frank had only shared with a trusted few because of how heavy it always left him, how drained he felt after letting those truths out. But now here he was, laying it all bare for Isaac, in front of everyone. In front of all the broken relationships, he was talking about.

“Isaac, I understand,” Frank says again, his voice tight and gravelly, fighting against the weight of emotion. “There were so many days I wanted to end it all. To just go to sleep and never wake up again. So many days I came so close… too close to ending it, just to make the hurting stop.”

Out in the hall, you could hear a pin drop. Mel hears small gasps around her, and she turns slightly, seeing the stunned expressions of their coworkers, each one processing Frank’s confession in real time.

She remembers the times he opened up to her. Long stretches of silence, nights when the lights stayed off, and the air between them felt heavy with memory. Admitting that there were a few nights, before rehab and after rehab, when he would hold a pile of pills in his hand, just staring at them for hours. How they felt heavy, but weirdly peaceful, like a way out. He said he wanted to erase the memories, erase the guilt. Silence the cravings that still linger. All of it.

She needed to hold him but didn’t want to scare him, so for the first time, she asked if she could hug him. He barely managed a nod before she wrapped her arms around him. She didn’t let go for what felt like hours, whispering over and over how thankful she was that he didn’t give in. How happy she was that he was still here.

And now... everyone else knows.

She sees Dana, eyes glistening, offering a gentle hand on Robby’s back. Robby stares straight ahead, his expression dark and distant. McKay stands near the door, arms crossed, one hand over her mouth, but her eyes are far away, pained. Whittaker lingers behind a tearing Trinity, his posture quiet, present in a way that doesn’t intrude. Collins, Samira, Princess, Perlah, Donnie, Kim, Jesse. All the people Frank once knew before she ever came along. The trust he had broken. The trust he fights every day to rebuild.

A sob pulls Mel’s attention back into the room. Isaac is unraveling now, tears streaming down his face as his composure crumbles.

“Everything hurts,” he cries. “I lost my scholarship, football. My friends don’t talk to me, and my parents hate me. How do I fix this, Frank?”

Isaac’s eyes squeeze shut as another sob escapes, his shoulders shaking with the effort to hold himself together. His fingers tremble around the scalpel, loosening but not yet letting go.

Frank takes a cautious step closer, keeping his voice steady and low. “You start by asking yourself what you want.”

Isaac’s eyes slowly open, meeting Frank’s.

“What do you want? Football? College? Your friends?” Frank’s voice stays calm, sure. “Ask yourself what matters the most to you, and you fight like hell for it.”

Movement across the hallway catches Mel’s attention. Two people approach Robby, likely a nurse and a doctor from Behavioral Health. Robby motions for her, and she quickly steps over to join them.

“Mel was in the room in the beginning,” Robby explains. “Mel, this is Dr. Richards.”

The older woman offers a kind smile, her hand lifting halfway in a hesitant gesture. In any other situation, Mel would mirror it, but with her focus flicking constantly between Frank and Isaac, she doesn’t extend her hand or return the gesture. 

“What can you tell me?” Dr. Richards asks.

“We’re still not sure how he got out of his room,” Mel replies. “Dr. Langdon and I found him in the trauma bay. He’s extremely depressed, but not aggressive.”

Dr. Robby and Dr. Richards exchange a look, and something about it makes Mel speak up again, more firmly this time.

“He never once threatened us. He just didn’t want to be touched. At the time, he didn’t trust us. He still doesn’t trust any of us. But Dr. Langdon is working on that.”

“Dr. Langdon has asked for time with the patient-” Robby begins.

“He’s connecting with Dr. Langdon. He has from the beginning,” Mel cuts in. Her voice is steady. Certain. “I believe, because of personal experience, Dr. Langdon has the best chance of getting through to him.”

“I just want things to go back to normal,” Isaac’s broken voice drifts from the trauma room, pausing their conversation.

“Isaac,” Frank replies softly. “I’m sorry, buddy. The old normal is gone. But that doesn’t mean you can’t create a new one.”

Mel turns back to the two doctors. From the look Robby is giving her, she already knows she’s not going to like what he’s about to say.

“It’s been more than five minutes,” he says quietly.

“Tell me, after everything you just heard, that Frank is truly in danger,” she counters.

“That can always change at a moment’s notice, Dr. King,” Dr. Richards replies. Mel bites her lip to hold her frustration back. 

“So can the risk of endangering both patient and doctor if a group of strangers bursts in during an incredibly vulnerable conversation, most likely with orders to restrain him,” she fires back.

“Mel, I know you’re worried about Langdon—” Robby begins, but the heat rises in her chest as she cuts him off with a sharp glare.

“Stop thinking clinically. You just got a glimpse into Frank’s mind that none of us had a right to see. You always say you want to help him. Do you really think this is helping?”

“I’m trying to keep him safe,” Robby says.

“He’s not asking for protection. He’s asking for time.”

Robby gives her that familiar expression, equal parts frustrated and guilty, then turns to Dr. Richards.

“All right,” he says quietly. “Let’s hold off. For now.”

Turning back, Mel sees that Frank has made his way a little closer. His arms are no longer held up in defense but extended gently toward Isaac. The boy’s head is bowed, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. His hands hang at his sides, the scalpel no longer pressed to his neck, though it is still in his hand. 

“My parents can’t even look at me right now,” Isaac whispers. “What if they never forgive me, Frank?”

Frank lowers one hand, reaching the other out just a little further. “I can tell you this, Isaac. If you go through with this... if you end your life, it will hurt your parents more than anything else you could have done. It’ll be an open wound that never, ever heals.”

MMel knows these aren’t just comforting words. He is no longer speaking as someone who relates to Isaac, but now as someone who relates to his parents. He’s speaking as a father now. He once told her his kids were his anchor. He loved being a doctor, but he lived for his children.

“I’m a father too,” Frank continues softly. “And as a father, I truly believe your parents would rather have you here and be angry than lose you forever.”

Isaac shakes his head like he couldn’t bring himself to believe him. “No. You didn’t hear them.”

“They found you last night and brought you here, right? They are the reason you are still here, Isaac. They love you and they will forgive you, but you have to be here with them for them to do that.”

She watches out of the corner of her eyes as Dr. Richard leans toward the nurse who came with her and whispers in her ear. “Try to get his parents here now.”

The nurse gives a small nod and moves away.

Frank refocuses. “So what do you say, Isaac? We’re going to put the knife down?”

Isaac looks down at the scalpel in his hand, lifting it just slightly. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt anybody,” he says, voice cracking.

“I know,” Frank replies softly. “No one’s mad, Isaac. I promise. We just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Mel watches the way Frank speaks, steady, open, careful. Every word feels like a lifeline he’s extending just a little farther.

There’s a beat, then Isaac’s voice breaks through, small and uncertain.   “They said they’re taking me upstairs… will you come with me, Frank?”

Frank doesn’t even hesitate.

 “You got it, kid.”

And with that, Isaac finally drops the scalpel, and it clatters to the floor.  Before anyone can move, Frank kicks it away and catches Isaac, whose knees buckle from under him. He pulls him in, arms wrapped tightly around the teen, pressing Isaac’s face to his chest to muffle the sobs now tearing out of him. One of Frank’s hands cradles the back of his head, gently smoothing through his hair.

“Shhh. It’s okay, Isaac. It’s gonna be okay,” Frank whispers. He holds him up, keeping them in their own little bubble. 

Now that the immediate danger is over, people move into action. Security makes their way to the two in the middle of the room, but Frank shakes his head at them, “Don’t touch him, you guys. He is not going to hurt anyone."

“He’s okay.” He says, running his hand in a fatherly way on the boy’s hair, trying to ground both of them. “We are both okay.”

Mel stays where she is, leaning against the wall just outside the doorway. Watching the scalpel fall and Frank catch Isaac feels like the rope that had been keeping her upright has finally snapped. Her legs won’t give out, but she braces herself with one hand on her chest, feeling her pulse start to slow.

Dr. Robby and Dr. Richards make their way inside after security moves away just enough to give them space. 

“Dr. Langdon.” Robby starts, his voice tight with emotions. Frank looks at him over the top of Isaac’s head, his eyes open with emotions as well. “This is Dr. Richards. She is going to take Isaac up here to Behavioral now.”

“You can come with us to check him in,” Dr. Richards offers gently, addressing both Frank and Isaac. 

Frank gives her a quiet nod before they begin to move toward the door. Everyone has spread through the department, pretending to return to their routines, but their postures say otherwise. Some of them are still shaken by what happened, herself included. 

She tries to blend into the wall when everyone comes through the door. But of course, Frank finds her eyes immediately.

“Hey, can you give me a minute? I need to talk to Dr. King.”

Isaac nods and takes a step away, but turns quickly, his eyes apologetic. “I am sorry I yelled at you and pointed the knife at you.” 

Tears sting her eyes again, and she almost lets out a shaky laugh at the weight of his apology. He’s just a kid, barely holding himself together, and still, somehow, worried about how he made her feel.. She feels a fierce kind of ache for him. For how broken he looks, for how much pain he’s been carrying alone. Part of her wants to pull him into a hug, reassure him like she would her own sister. But she knows right now, space and safety are more important.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” she says softly. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

He gives her a small smile before walking away with the nurse. Robby and Frank exchange a long look. No words are spoken, but Mel can tell they’re saying everything they need to in the quiet between them. The weighted looks and heavy sighs. Robby gives Frank’s shoulder a brief, meaningful squeeze before walking off.

Then, finally, Frank turns to her. Their eyes meet, and for a moment, time just stops. He looks at her like he’s carrying a thousand words he doesn’t know how to speak. Her heart is pounding so loudly she feels it in her fingertips. She has to press her hand to the wall to keep herself steady. There’s so much she wants to say, but now isn’t the time. Not with Isaac waiting. Not when she hasn’t even begun to process all of it.

“Frank”

As if he had been waiting for her to speak first, her voice breaks the tension. He steps forward and pulls her into his arms. It’s the tightest he has ever held her, and she returns it without hesitation. She lets herself fall into it. Into the warmth of his breath against her neck. Into the weight of his arms across her shoulders. She grips the fabric of his shirt and presses her face to him, eyes closed, just for this moment.

“Thanks for having my back,” he whispers.

But Mel hears what he doesn’t say. The apology tucked behind his gratitude. It makes the knot in her chest tighten.

“I knew you could do it,” she replies, hoping he understands what she’s not saying. That he’s strong. What he just did was nothing short of incredible. That she is so proud of him.

They fall into silence again, neither one wanting to let go, both waiting for the other to move first.

“Go take care of Isaac. We can talk later,” she says quietly. slowly pulling herself out of his arms, trying to steady her breathing, trying to find her footing again.

He nods, his eyes flickering to the broken teen across the room and then back to her. He gently cups her face, pressing a firm hard kiss to her forehead. Then he leans his forehead against hers, resting there for a beat. The pressure is warm, grounding. “I will find you after.”

She nods and nudges him toward the hallway. He squeezes her hand as he steps away, holding on until the very last second, until he has no choice but to let go.

As soon as Frank disappears down the hallway with Isaac, Mel feels the walls closing in. Everyone around her is moving like normally. Dana is talking low. Nurses are reaching for supplies. But Mel can’t move. Her body won’t cooperate. Her chest tightens, her breath caught somewhere too deep to reach.

She knows people are looking at her. Dana said her name once, maybe twice. But it’s like her mind has unplugged from her body. Like she’s floating outside of herself, watching it all from a distance.

Then a hand touches her elbow, steady but gentle.

“Just walk with me,” Trinity whispers. “Focus on breathing.”

Mel doesn’t ask where they’re going. She doesn’t think, doesn’t speak. She just follows. Somewhere behind her, she vaguely hears Santos explaining something to someone, probably why they’re leaving, but Mel can’t make sense of it. She tunes it out, tuning in instead to the rhythm of Trinity’s steps beside her.

Her ears are still ringing. Everything sounds far away, underwater. Her limbs buzz with static, and the world tilts unevenly with every breath.

“Almost there,” Trinity says gently. “You’re doing great.”

Then the door swings open, and cool air brushes against her face. She breathes in. Not just a breath, but a real one, shaky, but full.

“There you go, Melatonin,” Trinity murmurs with quiet encouragement. Mel feels a light pressure on her shoulder, guiding her down. She lets herself sink to her knees, her palms meeting cool cement. When she finally lifts her head, she realizes where they are - The roof.

Trinity brought her to the roof.

“You’re alright now,” Trinity says softly, her voice warmer than Mel has ever heard it. “Just do what helps you. I’ll be right here.”

Trinity sits nearby with her legs crossed, eyes focused ahead. Her hands stay folded in her lap, giving Mel the illusion of privacy as she centers herself. Mel takes the quiet for what it is. A gift. She draws her knees close, hugs them tightly, and rests her forehead against them. Deep breath in. Hold. Release.

She fights each image as it flashes behind her eyes. The image of the scalpel near Isaac’s throat. The look in Frank’s eyes as he opened himself up more and more. The way he kept his voice calm even when his chest looked like it was about to crack open. The more she replays his voice, calm and steady, the slower her breathing becomes.

The city sounds become white noise. Horns. Wind. A seagull somewhere in the distance. She uses them to stay grounded. The ringing in her ears starts to fade. The pressure in her head lifts.

“Sounds like you’re back with me,” Trinity says gently.

Mel lifts her head, her voice still hoarse. “Yeah… I think so.”

Trinity glances over, offering a small smile. “Are you okay now?”

Mel hesitates. “Okay-ish.”

She swallows. The calm has returned, but everything underneath still feels raw. Unsorted.

“I don’t know what hit me,” she says, voice quieter now. “I knew he had it under control. I knew Isaac would be okay. But still…”

Trinity nods, letting the silence settle a moment before she speaks.

“Adrenaline crash, maybe?”

“Maybe.”

Mel exhales through her nose. “Everything just caught up to me, I guess.”

Trinity leans her arms on her knees. “He saved that kid’s life.”

He did. But not in the way people normally think of saving. He didn’t just talk Isaac down. He offered pieces of himself. Let the kid see every raw, broken edge. Let him know he wasn’t alone in the dark. Mel knows how dangerous that kind of openness can be. Especially for someone still healing from their own demons. Especially for someone like Frank.

Still, she feels the corner of her mouth lift. That kind of praise coming from Trinity means something.

“Yeah,” Mel says quietly. “He did.”

She notices Trinity frowning slightly, her attention pulled inward. Mel turns her gaze away, giving her the room to think.

“Has he ever mentioned it to you?” Trinity asks after a beat. “About…”

The sentence trails off, but Mel knows what she means. If Frank ever told her about wanting to die.

The answer is yes. And it’s not something she takes lightly. He gave her that truth in confidence, and she won’t betray it. Instead, she gives the smallest smile, hoping it says enough, that she knows, that she honors it, that it’s not hers to share.

Trinity seems to get it. She nods and looks away again, though something still lingers on her face.

“I didn’t mean for all that to happen to him,” she says, voice barely above a whisper. “When I went to Robby…”

“Trinity.” Mel’s voice is steady this time. More sure than she feels. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

She shifts to face her more directly. “You didn’t make those things happen. What happened to Frank was the consequence of his actions. You spoke up. That was the right thing.”

Trinity doesn’t look convinced. She keeps her eyes on the sky.

Mel had always wondered what Trinity really felt about that day.. It had taken courage to speak up that day, especially on her first shift. Everyone knew she did the right thing. But apparently, under all that animosity was guilt? That surprised her.

“Trust me,” Mel adds, gentler now. “Frank knows that. He doesn’t hold anything against you. He is too stubborn to tell it to your face, but he does.” Mel says with a faint smile. Then, softer, “One of the many things you guys have in common.”

Trinity lets out a soft scoff, shaking her head, but Mel catches the edge of a smile.

Mel leans back slightly, her arms resting loosely on her knees. “You saved him. Whether or not that was your intention, that’s what happened. And I’ll always be grateful for that.”

Trinity looks at her, startled by the sincerity. Her expression flickers, eyes a little too shiny.

“You two are something else,” she says after a moment, half laughing, half shaking her head.

Mel smiles, tilting her head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Her smile grows as Trinity laughs and lets the subject drop. She stands and dusts off her pants. Mel stays where she is, squinting up at her.

“I'd better get back down. You gonna stay here for a bit?”

Mel nods.

“I’ll tell Robby you need more time.”

“Thanks, Trinity. Really.”

Trinity gives her a single nod, something quiet passing between them. “Don’t mention it.”

Mel closes her eyes and tilts her face toward the wind. The panic may have passed, but something else sits beneath her skin now, something she can’t name. Not quite fear. Not quite relief. Just a hum of unease that refuses to settle.

It isn’t long before Frank joins her on the roof.

Mel stands near the edge, a safe distance from the ledge, arms wrapped around herself as the afternoon breeze brushes against her. The door creaks open behind her, and even before the footsteps follow, she knows it’s him.

She doesn’t turn. But when his arms wrap around her from behind, she exhales softly and relaxes. Their fingers find each other and intertwine, arms crossing gently over her chest. She leans into his warmth, grounding herself in his presence. His chin rests on top of her head, and she smiles, tilting her head back slightly to rest against his chest.

They stay like that for a while. Just standing. Just breathing. The city moves below them, car horns, distant sirens, the occasional gust of wind. But up here, it’s quiet. Up here, she doesn’t have to be anything except held.

Frank presses a kiss to the top of her head. “How are you feeling?”

She exhales slowly. “Still kind of mad.”

His arms tighten around her. Not in defense, just acknowledgment. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Her voice is soft, not accusing. “I know why you asked me to leave. I even understand it. But that doesn’t make it hurt less.”

He nods, and she feels it against her hair. “You’ve always had my back. I didn’t want you to see me... if I couldn’t hold it together.”

“You did hold it together.” She turns her head slightly, her cheek brushing against his chest. “More than anyone else could’ve.”

The breeze tugs gently at her braid, and she watches the skyline for a moment, grounded by the steady rise and fall of his chest behind her.

“I’m also happy,” she says softly. “Like, overwhelmed happy. It’s weird.”

“Yeah?” he murmurs.

She nods. “You were... incredible, Frank. The way you got through to Isaac.” She still couldn’t find the words, so she pressed a small kiss to his forearm.

She stands by what she said before. That none of them had the right to see inside Frank like that. But a part of her is glad they did. Glad they saw the man he’s becoming. The one she sees every day. The one she’s so proud of.

“I didn’t know if I could.” His voice is rougher now. Honest. “But I saw him there, and it was like looking at a version of myself I never want to be again.”

She turns in his arms now, slowly, until they’re face to face. Her hands rest on his chest, and she feels the thud of his heart through his shirt.

“Have you ever tried again?”

“Would you be mad if I said I did?”

“No,” she says, without hesitation. “Not mad. Scared, yes. Sad. But not mad.”

That loosens something in him. His shoulders drop slightly, and he finally breathes deeper.

“I haven’t actively tried again,” he says. “But... It’s a slippery slope sometimes. When I think too much. When things feel like too much.”

She listens. Doesn’t interrupt. Just nods, encouraging him with her stillness.

“My thoughts can get so dark and so loud sometimes,” he admits. “They tell me I don’t deserve to be a doctor. That I should be in jail. That I failed everyone. That Abby was right to leave me. That I’m such a bad father, I don’t deserve to see my kids.”

Her breath catches. She looks up at him, frowning. “Frank…”

“I know those things aren’t true,” he says quickly. “People remind me all the time. But when I’m in that headspace, it’s hard to believe what’s right and what’s wrong. Even with you. You’re everything right in my life, and still... sometimes I feel like I’m all wrong for you.”

She doesn’t let him finish that spiral. Instead, she rises onto her toes and presses her lips to his.

It’s not rushed. Not messy. It’s careful and sure, full of meaning and weight. A moment that has waited for breath and safety.

For a long second, he’s still, then his hands come up to her cheeks, and he kisses her back. When they finally pull apart, she doesn’t open her eyes right away. A frown tugs at her brow, like she’s afraid she imagined it.

Then he chuckles, soft and real. She opens her eyes to see him smiling.

“What was that for?” 

She didn’t know when she started to see Frank as more than a friend, but here on this rooftop, she knows. She needs him.  She would never be able to let him go.  She grips his shirt tightly. “You can’t leave me, alright? I need you to stay.”

He leans his forehead against hers. “Mel...”

“No,” she says again, her voice firmer this time. “You need to stay with me.”

He stares at her, wide open. And whatever he sees in her expression softens him completely.

Using the hand at her neck, he draws her closer, their noses brushing.

“Always, Mel.”

Then he kisses her again.

—-------

Mel watches the screen, eyes fixed, but her mind keeps drifting. Peeta is steady. Quietly brave. Always choosing love over pride. Always showing up, even when he’s not the one chosen. There’s something achingly familiar in that kind of loyalty.

Beside her, Frank hasn’t said much. But she can feel the weight of his thoughts, the way he’s watching the same scene and seeing something entirely different, something personal.

She shifts a little closer, drawn to his warmth without even realizing it. Just needs to feel that he’s there. That they’re both still here.

“I think your Peeta is out there for you,” he says suddenly, voice low but certain.

Her breath catches. She doesn’t look at him, but she tilts into him anyway, lets her shoulder rest against his. It feels safer than it should. More intimate than it seems.

“Oh yeah?” She manages, trying to sound casual, but her heart is doing something it shouldn’t.

“Yeah, I do. If anyone deserves that, Melissa King, it’s you.”

His words are simple, but they hit somewhere deep, somewhere sore, and hopeful all at once. She doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know how to explain the lump rising in her throat or the way her chest tightens.

So instead, she reaches for him. Her hand brushes his, slow and searching.

He doesn’t hesitate. Just laces their fingers together, strong and sure, like he’s been waiting for this moment. Like he means it.

She swallows hard, eyes still on the screen but no longer seeing it. Her voice is barely above a whisper when she says, “Yeah… I think he’s a lot closer than you think.”

And she means it. God, she means it. Because she’s fallen for him. Not in the loud, cinematic way she always imagined, but slowly. Steadily. The way a person leans into sunlight without realizing they’re warming to it.