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Frank’s first day back felt like being dropped into a river he used to know how to swim but had forgotten somewhere along the way. So basically he felt like he was fucking drowning.
Triage blurred together as he was shoved to take care of chairs with other nurses—forms were shoved at him, half-familiar faces watching him too carefully or not at all, and the ache of missing his kids clawing at his chest every time he saw a stroller wheel by the waiting room. Seeing a little boy clinging to his dad with a runny nose made him feel only slightly bitter.
So when charge told him to rotate into the safe haven watch, he didn’t argue, even though he wondered how he was just finding out about the baby now.
Frank expected it to feel heavy, even cruel—watching someone else’s abandoned child when he hadn’t seen his own in months. He braced himself for it, squaring his shoulders as he pushed open the door to the small emergency peds room.
And then he stopped dead in his tracks.
Mel was already there. Sitting in a chair, humming low with a swaddled bundle tucked in her arms. Her hair was beginning to fray from the heat and her shift, her braid looking loose.
The room, bathed in the hum of the machines and her soft song, felt like stepping into another world.
Frank’s chest tightened. For the first time all shift, all month maybe, he felt steady.
She looked up and caught him staring a second later. A smile curved at her lips, softer than the polite one she gave patients, warmer than the distracted one she gave nurses. “Hey,” she whispered. “Guess you drew the short straw too?”
Frank managed a crooked grin. “I don’t know about that. Looks like you got the best seat in the house.”
She laughed under her breath, and the sound did something to him he wasn’t ready to name. “Want to sit with us?”
He hesitated. It had been years since he’d held anyone this small. The last time—Tanner, and his daughter—he shook the thought down before it could spiral. “I don’t know if—”
“You’ll be fine.” Mel rose carefully, rocking the baby as she stepped closer. Her arms brushed his as she angled the bundle toward him. “Let me help you,”
Her fingers lingered on his wrist, steadying him as she eased the baby comfortably into his arms. Frank froze, muscles taut, terrified of one wrong move.
“Relax,” she murmured, her hand now warm against his. “She’s tougher than she looks. You won’t break her.”
The baby sighed, her tiny face pressed into his chest. Frank let out a breathless laugh. “Christ, she’s so light.”
“Like a feather,” Mel said, watching him with eyes too soft for the hospital walls. “A very sweet, fussy, bossy feather.”
Something cracked open in him then. He looked down at her, then at Mel, and for just a moment—God help him—he wondered what it would be like if one day he got his life together, if he asked her out, and if she said yes. His mind raced to future memories of possibly holding a child together, not just one left in a hospital bassinet.
His voice came out weaker than he wanted when he asked, “Does she have a name yet?”
Mel shook her head solemnly. “They discouraged it. She’ll be placed in foster care soon enough.” She glanced down at the baby, at the door behind them, then back at him, and a shy smile played at her mouth. “But in my head? I’ve been calling her Anne.”
Frank swallowed hard, the name knocking the air right out of him. Mel said it with so much love and care.
“Anne,” he repeated softly, reverent. The room seemed smaller, warmer, with Mel standing there so close to him, Anne pressed against him, the whole world distilled into this one fragile moment.
“You’re smiling,” Mel teased gently.
He looked up, caught. “Yeah? Maybe I am.”
“You’re a natural,” she said, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead before her hand lingered on his shoulder.
He laughed, nervous, trying to cover the proud swell in his chest. “I’ve done this once or twice. But I’ve always been kind of clumsy with them during this stage,”
Her grin widened. “Third times the charm,”
He wanted to laugh again, to joke back, but Anne shifted in his arms then, letting out a little whimper. Without thinking, Frank adjusted, bouncing her gently as he hummed at her. The whimpering softened into a content little sigh.
Mel’s eyes warmed as she watched. “See? She likes you. I think she picked you as her favorite here,”
Frank’s throat tightened. He had no words, only the impossible image in his head of a life where Mel might one day be his—where Anne or someone like her might be theirs.
The sharp buzz of Mel’s pager shattered the spell. She glanced down, her face going blank. “Trauma incoming,” she said, already shifting back into work mode. She brushed his shoulder again, just a whisper of contact. “I’ve got to go. You okay with her?”
“Yeah,” he said quickly, clutching Anne just a little closer. “We’ll be fine.”
She paused in the doorway, giving him that secret smile again. “Do you want to find each other after this shift? We could…” she started shyly, but he knew what she meant.
Frank’s chest swelled, hope sparking where despair had lived for far too long. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I’d like that.”
She gave him one last look—bright, steady, too much and not enough—before disappearing into the hall.
Frank looked down at Anne, who blinked up at him with tiny, sleepy and stubborn eyes. “Guess it’s just you and me now, kid.” He rocked her gently, fumbling at first but finding a rhythm, humming the tune Mel had been singing. “Don’t worry. I got you,”
Anne sighed, settling against him. He reached for his phone in his pocket with one hand, thumb tapping out a quick message.
Frank: Got her settled. You’re a tough act to follow, but I think we’ll survive. We could get a bite after work tonight?
The reply came almost instantly:
Mel: Absolutely. I can’t wait.
Frank chuckled softly, brushing a hand over Anne’s swaddle. “Don’t you worry, I’m here baby girl,” he murmured, rocking her gently.
Outside, chaos hummed through the ER walls. But in this small room, with a little baby in his arms and the promise of seeing Mel after work, Langdon finally felt like he’d found a piece of home again.