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Louie was dead.
Louie was dead and there were at least five other people—including Robby—in the room staring at Frank.
They knew. They knew exactly what he’d done to Louie ten months ago, and now they were waiting with bated breath for him to break down. To collapse on the floor into a sobbing, incoherent mess, like the breakdown Robby had that he’d so graciously insulted him for.
But he wasn’t allowing that to happen. Rehab had hardened him, strengthened his resolve. Frank had sunk to the depths of the ocean, to the very bottomless pitt while in withdrawal. He’d cried more tears than he’d ever thought possible, enough to fill the Allegheny. He’d clawed his way back to the surface, and wasn’t about to lose all that progress now by crying. Especially not in front of his coworkers.
Especially not Robby.
To prevent any emotion from showing on his face he told himself that the dead man on the bed wasn’t Louie. He wasn’t a dear friend, a fellow addict that forgave him for stealing, who knew his children’s names, and had been a tether for him today.
The dead man was simply another patient, an alcoholic whose death due to his addiction was only a matter of when not if. Just another patient they’d worked to save but unfortunately slipped away.
Frank’s ears burned with embarrassment at being the focus of attention in the room but he cleared his throat that was tight with grief, and muttered out the time of death in a voice that only slightly wavered.
Robby never wanted him in the ED today anyway, so he kept his eyes firmly below everyone else’s faces and moved around the bed to leave the room.
He almost made it out when he saw it.
A beer can, sitting innocently on the table.
The world seemed to stop, the sounds of the others moving the equipment away from Louie the patient fading away, and all he could hear was the blood rushing through his ears.
The beer wasn’t there before. Frank had been sitting in front of Louie’s room to monitor him while completing his charting. Before the alarms started blaring, he’d been the last one in there and no alcohol had been present. He stopped in his tracks, heart dropping in his chest. Slowly he reached out and picked up the can, the aluminum still cool to the touch.
It’s not logical for anyone to come in here carrying beer for the man that one more drop would kill. Though it didn’t really matter now.
He racked his brain, and recalled Robby carrying something when he entered the room. Frank had been more concerned with defending himself—He kept pulling off his pulse ox—than paying attention to his attending. But now looking back, he was definitely holding the beer.
It didn't make any sense, so he looked over at Robby for an explanation.
The two of them locked eyes immediately, since he was already being watched closely. And Frank saw the moment as clear as day when it clicked in his mentor’s eyes.
The crinkles around Robby’s eyes lessened as his face fell, the mask of frustration he’d directed towards Frank all day disappearing as true shock replaced it.
It was the look that Frank so desperately wanted to see in that damn ambulance bay while hurling out accusations, but instead it was instead reflected on his own face as he was kicked out.
This job will fuck you up if you let it.
You let it.
Now he knew what it was like to be on the other side. It was strange, catching Robby off guard. Powerful, and if he was still in the same headspace as when he’d been caught he would use this to his advantage; use it as evidence to prove that the other man was just as flawed and weak as he was.
But Frank was not the same man he was ten months ago. Instead of anger and pride, all he felt was pure, bone deep, exhaustion. His arm lost its strength and fell down to his side, the can slipping from his fingers.
Thankfully it didn’t explode, but it nearly sounded like it in his ears. It crashed to the ground, heavy with significance and meaning. The alcohol was evidence that Robby would never forgive him, never look past his addiction. He could for Louie, a frequent flyer of the Pitt, but not his former friend, not him, who looked up to Robby like he’d painted the night sky himself.
He wasn’t forgiven, and never would be.
He’d lost the title of friend and Robby’s respect, and would live the rest of his life with the stain of his addiction following him everywhere.
Numbly, Frank felt his legs start to carry him out the room. He wrenched open the door, not caring what he looked like, just knowing that he needed to get away. To leave, and process Louie’s death and Robby’s shit alone.
In a faraway world he faintly felt his shoulder slamming into Whitaker—which definitely didn’t bode well for their earlier tension—but he pressed forward, only having enough reserves left in his body to find a place to hide.
Robby’s voice filtered into the background—which made him pace faster—but then Dana’s joined in and stopped it. Thank you, he mentally sent her for the interruption. He could always count on her, since for some reason the felonies he’d committed hadn’t affected her treatment and care for him.
He zoomed down hallways, eventually finding an empty room. Frank immediately shut the light off and made his way over to the opposite end, cursing when his shin connected with a heavy chair. Breathing evenly through the pain and welcoming the brief distraction, he slowly slid down the wall and brought his knees to his chin.
Louie was dead. Louie was dead.
It could’ve easily been his own path if Santos hadn’t entered the picture. He could’ve abandoned his children and left them with only a grave and a sob story that would win them pitiful glances and stilted apologies.
The image of himself on that bed entered his mind. His body, skinny with continued drug use and neglect towards his physical health. Pale skin covered in sheens of sweat that made attempts to still his rapid movements difficult. His arms, aching with repeated needle jabs. His coworkers, fighting through tears as they take in his sorry state while they attempt to help him. And most of all Robby. Robby, whose face will be stone cold, barking out orders in anger. When their efforts to save his life fail and the monitor blares before someone turns it off, the only reaction from Robby will be a tightening of his jaw.
No grief, just disappointment. Dr. Frank Langdon, the resident failure of the Pitt; a cautionary tale that Robby will use for future med students of which path not to follow.
But back here in the present, as the pain finally subsided in his shin, everyone in the ED was no doubt thinking about how Louie’s death was only a matter of time, and they definitely were thinking of him in the same vain. Sure, since returning to work everyone (sans Robby and Santos for obvious reasons) had treated him normally and surprisingly kindly, but that didn’t mean anything.
As a doctor, Frank had been trained to hold his tongue. He wasn’t the best at it, but there were many situations where his words didn’t match his thoughts. Like interacting with a person with dementia, just going along with their delusions because it was better than shattering their world.
Whitaker was the one person today whose tongue had slipped, and Frank couldn’t even blame him. It was Louie’s librium he was caught stealing and it was his first day back, he’d be more concerned if Whitaker wasn’t cautious. It was only because Perlah and Louie were witnesses to the embarrassing moment that he’d reacted like that.
At least he didn’t scream at the new doctor like he had Santos….so, progress?
But now, all he wanted to do was scream. He wanted to scream until his throat was raw, until it cracked and broke, until nothing but pathetic whimpers escaped his lips. He wanted to scream himself into a coma, scream himself back into the blurry headspace of the early days of rehab where he was drenched in sweat and shook so much he couldn’t hold anything and endured the humiliation of being fed.
He wanted to scream until he was suffocating and couldn’t think anymore, but all he could do was stare ahead at the inky blackness of the room. The lights of the hallway spilled through the gaps in the blinds, leaving slits of illumination.
Unfortunately he didn’t have much time to wallow in self-pity before a shadow passed over the door. Instead of it blissfully disappearing and the footsteps retreating, the shadow grew closer and the door opened. The artificial light from the hallway disrupted the peaceful dark atmosphere he created, assaulting his eyes with its intensity.
And to his complete unsurprise, there stood Dr. Michael Robinavitch. He sighed, clearly disappointed in the sight of his former best resident curled up in the corner.
“Why is it so dark in here?”
“Because the lights aren’t on.” Frank shot back sarcastically in an attempt to seem like he hadn’t nearly slipped into a vegetative state.
Robby smirked, but there was no mirth in it. There never would be again, not after what Frank had done, and not after how Robby had acted so far in response to his return.
Looking back, their relationship was always one-sided, Frank putting much more effort into it than Robby ever did. He supposed he was just a parasite that Robby never figured out how to shake, and was too polite to say anything.
“How’d you find me?” he asked, trying to break up the awkward silence.
“Oh I figured you didn’t want to be found, so I checked for a room with the lights off.”
Well. He was a smart man. So he did know why it was so dark, he just wanted to make Frank explain himself. Great.
“Langdon—”
“—Why, Robby?” he interrupted, which caused his former friend to tilt his head, questioning what he meant without saying anything. Frank swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Why did you plan on giving an addict the very thing he craved?”
“Frank—”
“You don’t get to call me that anymore, we’re not friends.” he snapped. “I’m an addict too, Robby. Since you’re feeling so generous, you should just give me some benzos while you’re at it. Have you given Dana cigarettes yet? She’s trying to quit, but since you’re giving into addictions today she might as well join the club. Everyone gets to be an addict except me.”
Robby sighed again at the harsh words, and something in Frank’s heart shattered at seeing how he continued to torment him. All Frank did was spread poison, and he was most likely the deciding factor in the sabbatical. He’d tried so hard today to follow the rules, tucking his tail by soldiering through triage and giving up whenever his chances to apologize were shut down.
But now here they are yet again, Dr. Langdon lashing out when he’s scared and insulting Dr. Robby, destroying any chance of a salvageable friendship.
His former friend couldn’t stand to look at him after what he’d done, but was perfectly fine with supplying another addict with their drug of choice. The obvious parallels made him dizzy, and he was grateful he was sitting down. What was it about him? How can he ever hope that he’s worthy enough to be trusted again?
Robby shut the door but left the light off, slowly shuffling over towards him and Frank hated it. Hated that he was being treated like a rescue dog, like he’d bolt with any quick movements. It made sense since he did just run away a few minutes ago, but it still hurt.
He didn’t react beyond clenching his jaw and tightening his arms around his knees (which weren’t visible in the dark) so the movements continued. His attending cautiously made his way to the same wall, and sat down a respectable amount of distance away.
It reminded him of when he comforted Mel, and he hated the vulnerability aspect of being on the other side. Frank wasn’t going to shatter like glass if he was looked at wrong; he’d survived rehab, attended his NA meetings, pissed in cups for random urine tests, and endured the painful process of the Physicians Health Program.
He’d sucked it up and waltzed back into the very ED he was kicked out of, surrounded by his drug of choice and stares of his colleagues that knew. Frank was a ‘big boy’ and didn’t need to be stared at with those pain-filled brown eyes of Robby’s.
“I know what it looks like Fr—Langdon,” he corrected himself. “I can see how that made you feel. I just…I wanted to help him with withdrawal. He’d gone cold turkey all day, which is something we both know he doesn’t…didn’t do. He wasn’t in recovery like you. It was only meant to help him.”
Ouch, that hurt like a bitch to hear. Frank grasped onto his NA bracelet like a lifeline. “That’s exactly what I told myself, which is how I got into this mess.”
Robby sighed. “I know.”
Frank brought his wrist up and pressed the beads against his forehead. “Why are you helping him and not me?”
Shit. And there went his bad habit of not letting his thoughts stay in his head.
Robby had helped him. He’d done everything he could for Frank, instead of advocating for the removal of his medical license, he’d given him the second chance of rehab and let him come back and work at the Pitt, the very place he’d stolen from. Frank had gotten off easy, and here he was complaining about it. Here he was being ungrateful, once again.
Here he was giving more reasons for Robby to keep him at arm’s length and never speak to him like a friend ever again. Another interaction for Robby to cringe at and count down the hours until his sabbatical where he could ditch him.
Paralyzed with fear, Frank just sat there. He wanted to correct himself, say No I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry but his vocal chords were frozen. He opened his mouth but the only thing to come out was a sharp, broken sound.
“Oh Frank…” Robby spoke softly.
He didn’t even care that he used his first name, hearing the gentle tone slip back into Robby’s voice for the first time in nearly a year was too much, so he squeezed his eyes shut.
“Why didn’t you come to me?” he heard Robby whisper. “Why didn’t you trust that I could help you?”
And there it was. The question that Robby no doubt wanted to ask from the very beginning, finally out in the open. Robby felt responsible for him. Frank was his own personal failure, and that’s why he couldn’t look at him. The revelation sucked the last remaining strength out of him, and he was left with nothing but shame. He was so weak he could barely hold his own head up.
“I couldn’t—” Frank started but the words came out all warped. He swallowed, trying to gather his voice again while they sat there in the darkness and silence. “I dreaded the look in your eyes. I wanted to be your best resident and I…thought getting help about drugs would change that. After I lost control I couldn’t admit to myself that I became an addict so I worked even harder to hide it and hoped with everything I had that you’d never find out.”
He brought his wrist down and smushed his eyes onto the top of his knees. “I was-I was afraid of disappointing you…but all I did was make everything worse.”
He felt Robby’s hand on his shoulder, and the unexpectedness of it caused him to flinch violently.
“Shit, sorry.” was the reply.
Guilt churned in his gut. Robby shouldn’t be sorry, he wasn’t the one stealing medications from patients and committing crimes for months.
Hesitantly, Frank let go of his knee with the arm closest to Robby and held it out in an offering. There was just enough light in the room for his mentor—friend? to see the shape of his hand and he clasped it back immediately. In his relief, Frank squeezed his hand as hard as he could. Based on how drained he was it probably wasn’t too much force, which was painfully pathetic.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Frank confessed into the comforting darkness that made this whole process easier.
He repeated the words over and over, all the apologies he’d been trying to give for the past five hours spilling out of him like a dam had broken. He wasn’t specific on what he was sorry for, just everything in general.
For not trusting Robby in the first place, for abusing his authoritative position as a doctor, for violating the code he swore to, for endangering his patient’s lives by lessening the medication they received themselves, for deflecting the blame of Santos’ investigation, for being ungrateful of the second chance he was given, and for insulting the one man out of the entire hospital he looked up to the most and deserved his vitriol the least.
Once he ran out of energy to speak, Frank loosened his grip out of fear that he’d be sent home for having a breakdown.
Robby cleared his throat. “You all done?”
Frank laughed, and if he hadn’t used up all his tears in rehab he would’ve been sobbing the whole time.
“Yeah,”
“Well, the ED needs us,” After a beat he added, “They need you.”
After being told earlier that he’d “done enough”, the declaration of faith was too much for him to handle so despite the hollowed-out empty feeling in his chest Frank was determined to prove himself. He fully let go of Robby’s hand and was about to stand to get back to work when he was stopped by a firm hand on his wrist.
“Frank before you go, I’m sorry too.”
The words reeked of pity. Frank didn’t need fake apologies that people didn’t mean, they only made it worse. “No, you don’t have to—”
“Yes I do. I’ve been shoving you aside all day.”
Frank looked down, shrinking into himself. At least he knew that statement was true. The avoidance had been cutting him deeper than any knife could, and the wound had been aching for hours now. He could only wonder what Jesse thought during their stilted diagnosing of the sepsis woman before her condition became clear.
“I just…” Robby continued, “That was such a shit day, and what you did sent me over the top. I couldn’t believe that an intern on her first day saw what I couldn’t; I wasn’t expecting that from you. My shift was terrible, and I wasn’t in a headspace to consider how bad that day was for you too. That you were overworked as well, and lashed out like any addict would when caught.”
Frank had beat himself up so many times about his behavior in the ambulance bay, so to hear Robby talking about it in that way…was an adjustment to say the least. He stared at the dark shadow of the hand still on his wrist. “You weren’t wrong, I betrayed you.”
Robby said nothing. He supposed it was because so much shit had happened between them that they didn't even know how to interact with each other now. And for Frank, ever since he was kicked out and truly processed the consequences of his actions, he’d felt like he was wearing a stranger’s skin. Someone else’s body, someone else’s life.
It took months to accept that he’d have to deal with his addiction for as long as he lived. That it wasn’t as simple as ‘putting it behind him.’ If he injured his back again or developed chronic pain, he would have to deal with it without strong medication, for the rest of his life.
This path wasn’t what he’d expected of himself. Robby clearly hadn’t either, and the situation they found themselves in was because they were both trying to figure out how to move forward.
Their conversation in the dark, unused hospital room didn’t end in tearful hugs and the words, “I forgive you.” It didn’t erase the pain Frank felt at Robby intending to give Louie beer. They didn’t magically get back to how they were before, they didn’t suddenly have the lighthearted banter that Frank attempted to start out the beginning of the shift with.
It was still very awkward, and the room was thick with uncertainty.
But it was better.
And Frank finally was able to believe in a future where they could be friends again. It would just take a while for the other man to be in a headspace where that was possible.
Robby let go of his wrist, which embarrassingly enough had begun to sweat underneath his grip due to his nerves. It was a weird moment, but when Frank sheepishly muttered under his breath, “Sorry ‘bout that,” Robby replied, “S’lright,” instead of ignoring him.
Frank couldn’t help but feel on top of the world at the normal comment, at the lack of disdain he’d been treated with so far today. It was enough to start healing his heart, providing enough strength for him to get through the next couple of hours.
Louie was dead, and Frank didn’t think he’d ever squash the twinge of blame that settled in as soon as his health soured. But it seemed that Robby felt somewhat the same way about him, and at least they had that in common.
The moment was officially over, so the two of them stood and moved towards the door. Right after opening it, Robby turned around and looked him in the eye, truly looked at him for the first time today, and nodded.
Peace settled in Frank’s heart, and together they stepped into the light.