Work Text:
“Don’t freak out,” is the first thing Langdon hears when he picks up his phone, blinking the sleep from his eyes. And then he processes her words and sits bolt upright in bed.
“Why- Santos, why the fuck would you open with that?”
“Because I don’t want you to freak out,” Santos says impatiently. “I’m not dealing with your drama today.”
“What is wrong with-”
“Save it,” she says. “Mel didn’t come in today.”
Langdon takes a beat. “What?”
“Mel isn’t here. She’s not picking up her phone, and Becca hasn’t heard from her since last night. You’re her emergency contact.”
Langdon glances at the clock. It’s 9:30. His heart skips a beat. “But– Mel is never late.”
“What higher power did I piss off to have to be the one to call you,” Santos mutters. “I fucking know, Langdon. But we’re short-staffed and none of us can leave, so you should probably go check her apartment, yeah?”
But he’s already flying down the stairs, not bothering to change out of his pyjamas. “I’m on my way.”
“Whoa there, pill boy, take a breath,” Santos says. “Relax, she probably just got distracted and forgot to charge it. She’s probably on the bus right now, regretting that she got distracted and forgot to charge it.”
“Then why did you tell me not to freak out?” he asks pointedly, slipping on his gardening crocs and grabbing his keys.
“Because where Mel is concerned, you’re prone to freaking out,” she says. “I can hear it. You’re practically hyperventilating. Don’t do that.”
“Helpful as ever, Trinity,” he retorts, slamming the door behind him. “We should try that one with more patients.”
“Whatever,” she mutters. “Let me know either way, though, okay? Or just call the main desk.”
“Will do,” Langdon mutters back and hangs up. He reverses out of his driveway at top speed and makes it to Mel’s place in nine minutes flat, which might be a new record.
He’s been Mel’s emergency contact since he’d discovered that she didn’t have one, and Mel is unfortunately prone to emergencies. Thankfully, she’s equally indestructible, so while she’s just the kind of person that crazy stuff just happens to, she rarely gets so much as a scratch. Not that it’s ever stopped Langdon from having a heart attack every time he gets a call, though, which is bad for his stress levels, especially since his subconscious likes to remind him that she’s already been almost-abducted. His therapist frequently tells him that statistically, the odds of it happening again are infinitesimal, and every time, Langdon has to reply that it’s genuinely impossible to understand Mel King if you’ve never met her.
He lets himself in the main door of Mel’s building with his emergency key and takes the stairs two at a time, trying to keep his breathing even to avoid actually hyperventilating. It’s not like he’d ever tell Santos if he actually did, but she’d suss it out anyways, since she seems to have a sixth sense for his humiliation.
Langdon’s heart is pounding as he bangs on the door, and yells, “Mel, I’m coming in,” just in case. He’s not sure which possibility stresses him out more – the prospect of her being there, something seriously wrong, or her not being there, in which case- well, Langdon can handle emergencies, but he’s not great with ambiguity.
Mel isn’t there. He practically sprints through her (tiny) apartment, meaning that he’s scoured the entire thing in about eight seconds. Her work bag is gone, as is her jacket. Her calendar on the fridge doesn’t say anything except work, 7-7 and laundry.
Langdon sags back against her kitchen counter, trying to think. She lives in north Pittsburgh, and while it’s only a 15-minute walk or a five-minute bus ride to Becca’s facility, it’s 45 minutes and at least two buses to work, sometimes three. He’s told her multiple times that she could get a reliable used car at a decent price, but Mel insists every time that she likes public transit. She uses the commute to read, and driving would just bring out her road rage, which is bad for her anxiety. Langdon has seen her drive, and truthfully, she has a point.
He decides to drive along her transit route. Maybe she overslept, forgot to charge her phone overnight, and then hit traffic or some other delay. Stranger things have happened – they personally see the results of highly unlikely situations every other day. Langdon drives as slow as the flow of traffic will allow, scanning the streets frantically for a small blonde in a denim jacket. He’s just reached her first bus stop, when his phone rings through the car’s Bluetooth. He hits accept without checking the caller ID.
“Hello?”
“Mel called,” Santos says. “She’s okay.”
Langdon’s sigh of relief is so forceful that his ensuing inhale comes out as a gasp.
“Whipped,” she coughs under her breath. “She does need you to go pick her up, though,” she adds. “I’ll text you the address.”
“Thanks,” he says automatically, brain still blankly firing off endorphins. She’s okay. Santos makes a noise of acknowledgement. “Wait,” he says quickly, before she can hang up. “Why didn’t she just call me?”
“Something happened to her phone,” she replies. “She didn’t say what. Can I go now, or do you want me to write up a psych eval based on a 30-second phone call?”
“No, that’s fine,” he says impatiently as he turns onto a side street. “Thanks.”
“Whatever,” Santos says, and hangs up.
Langdon pulls over to the side and parks, flicking on his hazards as he waits for Santos’ message. It comes about 20 seconds later, and his eyebrows fly up when he sees that she’s sent him an address in Sewickley, a full ten miles north of here. His first thought is that oh, fuck, she’s been kidnapped again, and he’s going to have to pay her ransom. It’ll probably bankrupt him – rehab had been fucking expensive – but he’ll do it. Maybe Abby would be open to renegotiating alimony under the circumstances. She’s met Mel, and to Langdon’s chagrin, they’d gotten along entirely too well for his liking.
Once his brain has finished running that scenario, though, he remembers that actually, Sewickley is one of the wealthiest areas in the Pittsburgh metropolitan area, and it would be really fucking insensitive to ransom out an ER doctor. Does her abductor know anything about healthcare workers?
Thankfully, his rational doctor brain finally decides to kick in, and he reasons out that, given what he knows, kidnapping-for-ransom really is pretty unlikely. Santos had said that she was okay and just needed a ride. He takes three deep breaths, then plugs the address into his GPS. It says it’ll take 22 minutes. He bets he can do it in 18.
Langdon takes off down the 65, well above the speed limit. He’s calmer now – Mel’s life hasn’t been easy, but she herself does have remarkably good luck, and again, Santos said that she was fine. Now he’s just really curious.
The drive passes by in a blur, and before he knows it, he’s in what looks like a very expensive neighbourhood. He’s driving down a quiet, tree-lined road, past gated mansions and golf courses, and his curiosity is reaching an all-time high. His GPS takes him to the end of a driveway, blocked by gates with video cameras. He parks beside the gate and gets out, relieved to see a buzzer. He pushes it. There’s a crackling noise, then: “Yes?”
“Hi,” Langdon says. “I’m here for Melissa King?”
There’s a pause. “Park on the left and come to the front door.”
He heads back to his car, relieved that he’s in the right place, but more confused than ever, and then the gates open and he winds his way up a long driveway towards a huge brick house. He pulls in beside a row of cars that are far more expensive than his old Toyota and gets out and as he walks towards the front door, it occurs to him that something about the house is bizarrely familiar, but before he can put his finger on it, the door opens, and a tall, well-dressed man lets him in.
“You’re here for Melissa King?”
Langdon nods. “Is she okay?”
“She’s fine,” the man says. “She’s through here.”
Langdon follows him through the house, but he’s too distracted to take in the décor – what the fuck is Mel doing here? They end up in a large, comfortable room, full of couches, a pool table, and a huge TV. Mel is sitting in a big squishy armchair, flipping through a stack of papers, but she looks up when she hears him come in and smiles. “You made it!”
He heaves a sigh of relief and rushes over to her, scanning her quickly. She looks fine, except for the fact that one of her pant legs is rolled up and there’s a bandage wrapped around her ankle. “Are you okay?”
“Sure. Why are you wearing your crocs?” she asks curiously, setting the papers down. “It’s only 46 degrees out.”
“They were beside the door,” he says distractedly, eyes darting around the huge room. Again, it’s strangely familiar. “Mel, where the fuck are we?”
“Oh,” Mel says. “That’s right. I didn’t mention it.”
“Didn’t mention what?”
Then he hears something behind him and turns around. And then Langdon thinks his knees might give out.
“Hey,” says Sidney Crosby, lifting his hand in a slight wave. “I’m Sid.”
Langdon wheezes. Mel nudges him with her foot, but words fail him, and he just stares at the man in front of him, mouth open.
“This is Frank,” Mel says apologetically from the chair. "Sorry. He’s a big fan, and I didn’t tell him in advance because I didn’t want him to crash the car on his way here.”
Sidney Crosby laughs. “All good.”
“I’m sure you’re used to it, though,” Mel says, tilting her head.
Sidney Crosby shrugs. “As used to it as you can be.”
Mel nods thoughtfully. “Yeah, I believe it. Frank,” she says, turning to him pointedly. “I’m assuming you haven’t had breakfast yet. Do you want some banana bread?”
“What?” Langdon chokes out.
“Sid makes great banana bread,” Mel says. “Famously.”
“It’s my mom’s recipe,” Sidney Crosby says, leaning against the doorway.
“Yeah,” Langdon says faintly. “I’d love some.”
“Can I get you something to drink?”
Langdon opens his mouth to respond, but he still can’t come up with anything to say.
“He’d love a double espresso, if you’re offering,” Mel answers for him. Sidney Crosby nods and leaves, and Mel leans in. “He has a really expensive espresso machine,” she whispers conspiratorially. “I saw a video about expensive coffee makers on Instagram once, I think this one was like 15 grand.”
“Okay,” says Langdon.
Mel smiles slightly. “Thanks for coming.”
“Of course,” he says blankly. “Am I dreaming?”
Mel’s eyebrows flick up and she tilts her head. “No. Would you like me to pinch you?”
“I’ll pass,” he says, dazed.
“Sorry I couldn’t call you myself,” she says. “My phone was run over by a car.”
That does somewhat cut through the stupor. “Wait, what?”
Mel sighs. “You know that cookie place in Bellevue?”
Langdon blinks at the non sequitur. “What?”
“It’s Emma’s birthday today,” she explains. “She loves cookies, and it wasn’t too far out of my way.”
“Okay,” Langdon says slowly. “And what does that have to do with Sidney fucking Crosby?”
“I’m getting there,” Mel says patiently. “Anyways, it took longer than I thought, and I was really worried that I’d miss my bus, so- well, I wasn’t really paying attention when I was crossing the street.”
Langdon stares at her, eyes then darting down to the bandages on her hands, then noticing that the knees of her pants are scuffed. “Mel,” he says. “Did Sidney Crosby hit you with his car?”
“No!” Mel says quickly. “He stopped in time, but I panicked and tripped. And, I threw the cookies into the intersection,” she adds with a frown. “Which is disappointing, that box cost like $30 and they smelled so good-”
“Mel,” he cuts her off. “Focus.”
“Right, right,” she says. “Well, I was okay – again, he didn’t hit me. But he got out and was so worried, he wanted to call an ambulance, but I said no, I’m a doctor, I promise I’m fine. But then people started to notice him and he got uncomfortable with the attention. I told him I’d just call a cab or something and deal with it at work, but then we saw that my phone was crushed under his tire and I was limping and my hands were bleeding and he said he’d take care of it.”
“So- how’d you get here?”
“He drove us,” she says with a shrug. “We sat down in his car to avoid the attention and he asked if I had anyone I could call, but I couldn’t remember anyone’s phone number, and people were starting to crowd around anyways, so he asked if it was okay if we just went to his house.”
“Holy shit,” Langdon says, head spinning. “Mel- what the fuck?”
“I know, I know,” she says with a sigh. “It was stupid to get in a car alone with a man I don’t know, but I didn’t really have a ton of options. I know self-defence, Frank,” she reminds him. “And- he has kind eyes!”
“That’s not- well, yeah,” he concedes. “Although, Mel, honey, you’re not beating Sidney Crosby in a fight.”
“Probably not,” she says. “But I’d already decided that I’d be willing to kick him in the balls if I had to, even if it meant he couldn’t play tonight.”
“Jesus,” he mutters. “I’m glad it didn’t come to that; we can’t risk losing him at this point in the season.”
“Right,” Mel says dryly. “That. Anyways, while we were driving here, he called both his doctor and a lawyer to come meet us, just to cover all the bases. And his girlfriend was here, oh, and another younger player on the team – have you heard of Ben Kindel?”
“Have I heard of Ben Kindel?” Langdon repeats, strangled. “Mel- did you meet him too?”
“Oh, yeah,” she says casually. “He left about half an hour ago. I beat him at darts.”
“Oh my god,” he says to the ceiling.
“Anyways,” she continues. “I meant to call work immediately, but I got waylaid by the doctor and lawyer. They were worried I’d go to the press or sue him or something, so they were pretty thorough. They were nice, though.”
“Mel- do you need a lawyer? You know my sister-,” but Mel waves him off.
“No, I’m fine. Sid and I came to a handshake agreement, although his lawyer is probably still going to make me sign something.” She gestures at the papers in her lap.
“Sid,” Langdon says faintly. “Right.”
“And he does owe me a new phone,” she says. “Since he crushed mine with his Porsche.”
“Right,” Langdon repeats.
“And then his girlfriend gave me a house tour and I got so distracted that I forgot to call the hospital. He has a really nice house.”
“You know, that’s fair,” he says, blinking rapidly. “I probably would’ve done the same.”
Sidney Crosby comes back, then, and hands Langdon an espresso and a slice of banana bread. The espresso is stupidly good, and Langdon is grateful to have something to do other than stare at Sidney fucking Crosby. Embarrassingly, though, his hands are shaking, so he sets the cup down and goes for the banana bread which is also stupidly good.
“I’m trying to get him to give me the banana bread recipe,” Mel says. “I understand the hesitation, but he won’t budge, not even for Keanu’s pickle recipe.”
“I’m just not a pickle guy,” says Sidney Crosby.
“Yeah, yeah,” Mel grumbles. “Whatever. What if I sue you for it?”
Langdon chokes on his banana bread, but Sidney Crosby just laughs. “I’d give it to you just to avoid that. My mother would never forgive me if her banana bread recipe went on the public record.”
Mel nods. “Good to know. I won’t, though,” she adds. “Promise.”
“I appreciate that,” says Sidney Crosby.
“Again, I’ll sign an NDA,” Mel offers. “I’ve never done that before.”
“And that means something, coming from her,” Langdon mutters. “She’s done a lot.”
Mel shakes her head. “That’s an overstatement. But- I will.”
Sidney Crosby shrugs. “Probably not necessary, but if my lawyers insist, we’ll be in touch.”
Mel nods. “I can work with that.”
Sidney Crosby, then, terribly, turns to Langdon. “Mel says that you’re a fan.”
“Lifelong. Actually, I cheered for Canada in the Olympics,” he admits. “I fucking hate the Tkachuks.”
Langdon’s heart skips a beat as Sidney Crosby laughs and says, “That means a lot.”
“And I have to ask,” Langdon says quickly. “Are you guys keeping Skinner?”
“You know I can’t tell you that, man,” Sidney Crosby says apologetically.
“Yeah,” Langdon says. “Just- the buzz around Musharov has been going for years, but when Skinner’s on, he’s on.”
“Stu’s got some moves,” Sidney Crosby agrees.
“And Dubas is doing some great things,” Langdon continues. “Actually, what are the odds he re-signs Karlsson?”
“I can’t tell you that either,” Sidney Crosby says, but he is grinning.
“He’s motivated,” Langdon says. “Especially since he missed out on the Olympics, and there’s a shot at playoffs – you guys have really turned it around.”
Sidney Crosby shrugs. “I certainly hope so. It’d be nice to win another cup before I retire.”
Langdon actually recoils. “Is that- is that happening?”
“Not this season,” Sidney Crosby assures him. “Geno’s got another season in him, too.”
Langdon heaves a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank god. The city isn’t ready for that. They’ll have to declare a civic day of mourning or something when that does happen.”
Sidney Crosby grins. “I think that’s a bit much, but I appreciate the thought.”
“It’s really not,” Langdon says emphatically. “You guys deserve it.”
“Okay,” Mel says then, clearing her throat. “Frank, I know you have lots of opinions, but we really should get going. We don’t want to overstay our welcome,” she adds, widening her eyes pointedly.
“Yeah, right,” Langdon says hurriedly. “Uh- just- I have to say, man, you’re such a huge inspiration, and it’s such an honour to meet you, the things you’ve done for this city and the Pens is just so incredible, you’re the greatest player this organization will ever see and we’re so lucky to have you and this is the best day of my life.” It just flows out of him, words tripping over each other as they stream out of his mouth. He’s bright red by the time he’s done speaking.
Mel is clearly stifling a laugh, but her eyes are fond. “Told you,” she says to Sidney Crosby. “I said he wouldn’t be chill.”
Langdon can’t even be mad about it. It’s Sidney Crosby and Langdon is devout.
Mel stands up then. “Okay, before we go, I’m taking a picture of you two. If that’s okay,” she adds quickly. “I’ll keep him from posting it, if it’ll raise questions, but-”
“No problem,” Sidney Crosby says. “All good, Mel.”
Mel smiles at Sidney Crosby and he smiles back, and Langdon can’t decide if he’s more jealous of Mel or of Sidney Crosby. Both. Neither. This is the most confusing and thrilling and unbelievable day of his life, although if anyone asks, it’s still his kids’ birthdays.
“Thanks again,” she says, once she’s taken the picture. “You really didn’t have to do all of this.”
“Hey, thank you for being so understanding,” Sidney Crosby replies. “I’ll get in touch about that other thing we discussed. Email okay?”
“Yeah,” Mel says brightly. “Thanks!”
Sidney Crosby smiles at her. “You guys are good to get out?”
“Oh, no problem,” she says. “Frank, you’re out front?” Langdon nods. “Okay,” she says. “We’ll go around the back, if that’s okay,” she directs to Sidney Crosby.
“Yeah, absolutely. Take care, Mel. And nice to meet you, Frank.”
Langdon’s face is suddenly bright red and he once again finds himself speechless.
“You too,” Mel replies, when it becomes clear that Langdon can’t. “Have a great time in Thailand!”
“Thanks,” he says. “Hopefully there’s no tsunami this time.”
Mel grins at him, and with a final wave, they head outside. Langdon is very grateful for the cool air. It helps clear his head and he falls into step beside her as they head into the yard.
“Tsunami?” he asks blankly.
“Oh, yeah,” she says. “He’s going to Thailand on vacation with his family when the season’s over.”
“Okay, but- tsunami?”
“Well, yeah,” Mel says casually. “You remember how my family and I were in Thailand in 2004?”
Langdon stops in place. “No?”
Mel’s eyebrows draw together. “Surely I’ve told you about that.”
“Evidently not,” he says, blinking as he processes that. “Are- the big tsunami?”
“Yeah, the Indian Ocean tsunami,” she says, a little too cavalier. Of course it was that one. Of course. She can tell by his face that he’s rather taken aback by this revelation and quickly adds, “We weren’t on the coast. Our hotel was inland; nothing more than a power outage and broken windows.”
At this point, Langdon isn’t even surprised. “Sure,” he says, resigned. “Why not.”
“I could’ve sworn you knew that,” she says contemplatively. “That’s why Becca hates large bodies of water.”
Langdon does know about Becca’s fear of water. “Right,” he says, nodding. “Because it was crazy to move to an island in the Pacific when one of your daughters is terrified of water.”
Mel shrugs. “She was fine as long as she was on land, she just never went swimming. That’s the year she got really into snail farming and conservation. A lot of Guam’s endemic snail population went extinct in the 80s. You may have heard her mention her hatred of the giant African land snail before.”
“Yeah,” he says, rubbing his forehead. “She may have mentioned that once or twice.”
Mel nods, and they fall quiet as they continue to walk around the house, finally giving Langdon a chance to take in the surroundings. He’d been too confused and concerned about Mel on the way in to think it through, but now he realizes why it had felt so familiar – he’d read that feature about the Penguins’ houses a couple months ago, and he’d remembered thinking that Sidney Crosby had better taste in interior decoration than the rest of his team, which makes sense. He’s a classy guy, Crosby.
When they finally get to his car, Langdon finally remembers the other curious bit of their conversation. “Okay, and what was that other thing you guys discussed?”
“I’ll tell you in a second,” she says. Then she pauses, hand on the door handle. “Actually, I think it’s better if I drive.”
Langdon’s eyebrows furrow. “Why?”
“Let’s get in the car, first,” she says, smiling.
He eyes her suspiciously, but he’s the first to admit that his brain is fried, so he shrugs and loops around to her side and hands her his keys, sliding into the passenger seat and staring at her pointedly as she starts the car.
“Seasons tickets,” she says casually, as they wait for the gates to the road to open. “Lower bowl.”
Langdon freezes. “What?”
Mel nods. “I told him I didn’t want any money, and he offered that instead when I mentioned that you were a fan.”
“Bu- wha- I’m- really?”
“Yeah,” Mel says as they drive onto the street. “You’re welcome.”
“But- you don’t even like hockey,” he says, absolutely flabbergasted. There’s no fucking way-
“Yeah, but you do,” she says, shrugging. “And I like you, so.”
“Oh my god,” he mutters, burying his face in his hands. “Oh my god.”
“I do think I’ll probably become a fan now, though,” she says thoughtfully. “He’s just so lovely. And that banana bread!” Langdon makes a strangled noise. “But he doesn’t think he’ll be able to set it up in time for tonight’s game,” she continues. “So there will just be regular tickets waiting for us at the ticket office.”
“I don’t understand how you’re real,” he says, muffled. “How are you real?”
“You keep saying that,” Mel says. “I still don’t know what it means.”
“You’re just- I can’t handle you,” he says, lifting his head up to look at her. “I do not understand how you are a real person.”
“That isn’t any more coherent,” she says. “But that’s okay. You’ve had quite the shock.”
“Yeah, well, you kind of make me crazy,” he says. “So.”
Mel frowns slightly as she speeds off down the road. “Oh. I’m sorry for stressing you out.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Langdon says, shaking his head. “I mean, yeah, you do stress me out, but that’s okay.”
“Is it?” Mel asks, voice tinged with uncertainty. “I’m sorry. I can- I can find another emergency contact."
“No,” he says vehemently. “That’s- god, Mel, it’s not your fault that stuff just happens to you, I just don’t have any fucking- mechanisms to deal with it. It’s like you make my brain short circuit.”
“Well,” Mel says. “I don’t know what to do about your circuitry issues.”
“There’s nothing to be done,” he says, staring at the clouds through the sunroof. “I’m just stupidly in love with you, and unfortunately, worry comes with the territory.”
“Oh,” Mel says. Actually, it sounds more like a squeak. “How exciting.”
Langdon actually laughs. “I’d like to think so,” he says. “Given that because of it, I just met one of the greatest hockey players of all time in flannel pyjama pants and purple crocs.”
“I think Sid appreciated that, actually,” Mel says. “He’s pretty down-to-earth. He was wearing flip flops in the car.”
“He’s so cool.” Langdon sighs, leaning back against the headrest. “Oh my god. This is the best day of my life, and it’s only 11am.”
Mel grins at him. “Yeah, it’s going to be weird going to work now. Oh- did you tell them you found me?”
“No,” says Langdon. “I’ll be honest, I forgot the hospital existed. I can call them now, though.”
“Sounds good.” There’s a pause. “Can we stop for cookies?”
“Mel, babe, you’re driving,” he says, opening his phone to call the main desk.“But yeah, absolutely we can stop for cookies.”
After a few rings, Dana answers.
“I’ll be there in half an hour,” Mel says. “I’m so sorry.”
“Hey, all good, kid,” Dana says through the speaker. “Glad you’re okay. What the hell happened?”
Mel sighs. “I’m not sure I can legally say.”
Dana snorts. “I don’t doubt that at all.”
Mel parks in front of the cookie shop about five minutes later, and as she runs in, Langdon opens his phone to the WhatsApp group, mel lore betting pool
FL (11:46am): I legally can’t say why Mel is late today, but when it inevitably comes out, I just need you all to know that this is a strong contender for the best day of my life.