Chapter Text
Frank Langdon had always pushed boundaries. He lived his life standing just on the line, he skated right over thin ice, he was good at it. Sometimes, he pushed too far, occasionally the ice broke underneath him, plunged him into cold water, but he’d always been able to swim back to shore. He always figured out a way to make it work, fix his mistakes, in the rare instances that he made them. Like now. He’d done the work, he was doing the work, rehab and therapy and meetings, he was getting better. He was back in the ED, and most of his coworkers were happy he was back. Robby hadn’t been thrilled with him, when he’d left for his sabbatical, but whatever. Langdon had three months before that was a problem. Three months to fully reintegrate and cement his position at PTMC, three months to win over new staff, get everyone fully on board Team Langdon. From what he could tell, it wouldn’t be too hard. Dr. Al-Hashimi seemed firmly on his side. He was hoping that wouldn’t come back to bite him. Dr. Robby was a stickler for loyalty, and if he felt Langdon was on her side, he might never get him back, but, again. Three months before that was a problem.
Also on his side, completely and totally in his corner, as shocking as it had been, Dr. Melissa King. Maybe shocking wasn’t the right word, because of all the people he’d been anxious to see again, she wasn’t one of them. From what he’d gathered of her personality, he hadn’t thought she’d condemn him for this, and even if it did forever shift her view of him, he knew she wouldn’t be confrontational about it. There was a reason she was one of the first to get his apologies. Saying it to her was easy, and she’d let him almost completely off the hook. That didn’t surprise him. What had been surprising was the genuine joy she’d shown at his return. He wasn’t sure what it was about her, why he’d been able to be so kind, so patient as he’d been, even with the benzos wearing off and the anxiety setting in and the ever present aching in his back returning. Something about her had brought him back to himself, on that first day. It must have left a good first impression.
So really, could anyone blame him, that he’d attached himself to her hip. Could he be blamed, when he put a hand, gentle and firm, on her shoulder while looking at scans together ? Was it his fault if a hand on her shoulder turned into a hand pressed against her waist as he passed by ? If he playfully tugged at her braid to get her attention, on occasion ? None of that was unusual, or strange, or notable in any real way. They were friends, she’d made him feel welcome on his first day back, and she’d had his back when Robby had been digging into him. They were friends. He’d found himself happily standing on the line again, just on this side of appropriate. All of his actions, all the small touches, the shared looks, the inside jokes, they could all easily be explained away, they all had plausible deniability. He made sure of it.
Because he was incredibly lucky that Abby hadn’t packed up and taken the kids, moved in with her parents, sent him divorce papers in the mail. He was incredibly lucky that she’d stayed, that she’d supported him through what were undeniably the worst ten months of his life. He was lucky. Their marriage had been rocky before the drugs came to light, and if he’d been thinking of leaving before that, well he’d never admit it now. He loved his wife. Abby was smart and funny, and he loved her. He wasn’t trying to convince himself of that fact. He didn’t need to, it was true. He loved her. He loved his kids. He would do anything to be a present figure in their lives. He would do anything to keep the time he spent with them. The thought of cutting that time in half, as little as it already was with work, it made him sick. All this to say, he and Mel, just friends. Completely platonic, don’t worry about it.
And speak of the devil, there she was, standing next to the nurses station, eyes scanning the results of some test, eyebrows creased and her bottom lip between her teeth. He was moving towards her before he could tell himself not to. The scan was out of her hands and in his own within seconds.
“What’re we looking at, Dr. King ?” He said, leaning towards her so they could both see. Closer, maybe, than strictly necessary.
“Mr. Harmon’s ultrasound,” She said, turning her face towards him, looking up. Inches between them, if that. He kept his eyes fixed on the image in front of him.
“What are we thinking ?” He asked, resting his weight against the nurses station, arm resting behind her, almost, not quite, around her. He thought about how she flinched away from touch, how her shoulders would rise to her ears and she’d inch away from anybody else, how she never did it to him. This time she leaned into it, and he tore his eyes from the scan to look at her instead.
“He’s got some pretty large kidney stones,” She said. He nodded, and tried to ignore the proximity he’d created.
“And what’s your plan ?” He asked. Technically, she was only a year behind him in her residency, due to his having to repeat. Technically he didn’t have to teach her, technically she might be better at this then he was, but still. He enjoyed picking her brain, asking her questions, seeing the way her mind worked. She never seemed to mind.
“Well,” She started, standing straighter, moving out of their little bubble, turning to face him, “The biggest one is about 6mm, which probably won’t pass naturally,” He stood up straight, following her, keeping her as close as possible. As close as possible without raising questions, at least. Plausible deniability. Just friends. “I think he’ll need Shock wave Lithotripsy.” Her eyes met his, which he always enjoyed. She avoided eye contact, when possible, and he tried not to push it. He was very respectful of the few boundaries she put up. There were so few of them.
“I agree. 6 might work itself out, but for his sake. 6mm swimming upstream does not sound pleasant.” He said. She nodded, plucking the scan from his hands, smiling at him, and then off she went. She really was an incredible doctor. An incredible person. He watched her walk away, allowing roughly 4 seconds to gaze at her back before pulling himself away. Any longer was too long, it would earn him a raised eyebrow from Dana, or would start an onslaught of Tagalog between Princess and Perlah. His eyes stuck to her braid, as he wondered what she might look like with her hair undone, before he ripped them unwillingly away. Back to work.
—-
Sometimes Frank Langdon felt bad about it, his inability to control himself. He knew he was sort of an asshole, especially to Mel. She was sweet, and kind, and when she sought him out, told him the most vulnerable details of her life, or found comfort in his presence, she had no way of knowing what perverted thoughts raced through his head. Ok, in his defense, they weren’t always actually perverted. Still, he was married. He was married to a saint of a woman who stood by him during rehab, through his withdrawals and his therapy, she’d been there for him, and barely ever complained. Thinking about his co-worker, the way her hands had wrapped around his bicep on his first day back, what it might feel like to intertwine their fingers together, or how her hair might feel in his hands, what her lips might feel like pressed against his… Wrong ! Bad ! Perverted thoughts that he shouldn’t be thinking. Still, when she stood next to him, smiling up at him like this, he couldn’t help but wonder exactly how far he’d have to stoop to kiss her. She was almost a full head shorter than him, and she’d have to stand on her tip toes. She was talking about Becca, as she so often did, and their plans for Mel’s next day off. He was listening, he made a point of listening to her speak, giving her his rapt attention whenever possible, since no one else ever seemed to. In the back of his mind, he was thinking about holding her hand, Tanner and Penny walking ahead with Becca, the five of them spending a day at the zoo together. He was a horrible person. Because the next day off Mel had was Wednesday, and he was off too, but Abby would be working. She loved taking the kids to the zoo. He knew he shouldn’t say it. He knew Abby would feel left out. He felt bad about it. But still,
“You’re off Wednesday, right ?” He asked. He shouldn’t say it.
“Yep, the weather looks great, it’s been so hot lately, and Becca doesn’t do well in the heat.” She said, smiling.
“Mid 70s, right ?” He asked. He shouldn’t say it.
“And sunny !” Mel added brightly. She didn’t know he was an asshole.
“Could I tag along, with the kids ?” He asked. No going back now. Her smile lit up the room, though. So, really. What’s the harm ? The kids would be thrilled, Mel was happy, and friends hung out outside of work all the time. Santos and Whitaker were living together and no one thought anything of that. He’d take plenty of pictures for Abby. He’d make sure Mel wasn’t in the background of any of them. Not that he was doing anything wrong. Abby might take it the wrong way. It was a perfectly platonic trip to the zoo.
—-
Offering to drive her home was a bit much. He knew he was really pushing it today, he’d heard Princess and Perlah talking, even if he didn’t understand their words, their body language and general eyeline was enough of a tip to know he was the center of it. Princess had even switched to French, at one point, making comments to Emma. But whatever, he’d wanted to offer her a ride for a while now. He’d once treated a young woman who’d been followed off a bus and stabbed, early into his residency. She had been the first patient he lost to violence, as opposed to illness. He thought about her frequently, and only more so after learning Mel took the bus home most days. During the height of his withdrawals, when sleep was plagued by nightmares, he’d dreamt of that patient. He’d watched her roll into their ER, blood blooming out of the floral shirt she’d worn, pouring out of her chest, and onto the floor, more blood than any human could actually hold, it would puddle around his feet, creeping ever higher, pooling around him until he was drowning in it.
Mel was a smart woman, more than capable of taking the bus home safely, and violent crimes occurring on public transport made up a miniscule percentage of crime in the city generally. Still, Mel rode the bus home, and he remembered how it felt to choke on blood. With the trip to the zoo penciled in for Wednesday, he had an excuse to hold her up after work. He offered to drive her, talk details on the way. He knew she liked to have a plan, he knew she was exhausted from the grueling shift, and he knew she’d be dreading the bus ride home. If he were lucky, he could find a way to make this a regular thing. Although he wasn’t entirely sure it was a good idea. At work, he had to keep it professional, even just barely, people could see them. He was held in check by the knowledge that if he ever crossed that line, he’d have to answer to it. Be held accountable. What happened between the two of them, alone, in the privacy of his car, was dangerous waters. If that ice got thin, if it broke underneath him, if he fucked up with Mel and lost that friendship, he wasn’t sure what would happen.
The worst part was, he couldn’t imagine drowning like that and Mel not throwing him a lifeline. She’d forgiven him the ten months without a mentor like it was nothing, and he still mourned where their relationship might be had he not vanished as he had. Sometimes at night he imagined it. Because in the dark and quiet of his bedroom, Abby softly snoring besides him, he could admit it. He’d been thinking of leaving her. They were roommates, more than partners, and they probably had less sexual chemistry than Santos and Whitaker. He loved her, and she was always going to be a part of his family, and he knew she felt it, too. When he’d told her about the drugs, he hoped it would break the camel's back. Instead, she bucked up and stood by him and been his rock. She was his partner, his best friend, through it all. But she hadn’t felt like his wife. He couldn’t do it now, though. It would humiliate her. Her parents would never forgive him, and she’d hate to explain it to them. He was stuck. There were worse women to be stuck with. He could be happy with her, except…
He was in love with Mel. A quiet admittance he would never say out loud. He thought about what his life might be, had Santos never caught on to his habits. He wants to think he’d have sought help on his own, but that wasn’t true. Had Santos not turned him in, he’d still be using. But, he liked to imagine. He liked to imagine a world where he’d never used at all, maybe, where he’d been brave enough to leave Abby, where he’d met Mel as a recently divorced young man, not a married drug addict. He imagined teaching her, helping her find her feet in the Emergency Room, he imagined how it would feel to get to witness it all. She didn’t need him, she’d done it all on her own, but he imagined a world where she didn’t have to. He would stare at the ceiling and wonder what inside jokes they would’ve amassed, what memories they’d share, and he’d wonder whether, without a gold band on his finger constantly reminding him of his prior commitments, they’d be platonic at all. If they had ten months together, instead of just barely two. How long would it take for his resolve to snap, if the only thing holding it together was the HR Department. Not long at all, he’d wager. He had shit self control.
All this to say, the two of them, away from prying eyes, all alone in his car. Dangerous. Bad Idea. Especially with repeated exposure. He could probably get away with it once, but if it became a routine he’d be pushing himself closer and closer to doing something monumentally stupid. He’d thought about his last shift pre rehab millions of times, different parts sticking in his brain and playing on repeat until the next one shifted into its place. Recently, he was remembering Mel, the crinkle in her brow, the soft and worried expression, the gentle sadness in her voice when she said “I just hate seeing families torn apart.”. He’d reassured her, then, but it played in his mind every time he thought about doing something stupid. She’d hate him, if she knew how often he thought about her. He got the feeling that the state of his marriage wouldn’t make her feel any better about his wandering thoughts turning to her. It wouldn’t help her that his marriage was over months before they’d ever met, if not years. All that would matter was that he was still married. He couldn’t leave Abby, so he couldn’t have Mel. Except if he was good, if he showed restraint, if he could control himself. They were friends. He had Mel like that. He still got to laugh with her, tell her dumb jokes, he could learn about her and listen to her and see her smile at him, he could have that. If he didn’t ruin it. He was playing a dangerous game of pretend, spending the day at the zoo together, with his kids, people would mistake her for the children’s mother, he might let them. They’d look like the most darling little family, he’d carry Tanner on his shoulders, despite how much it hurt his back, he knew there was limited time before his son was too big to be able to carry, he wanted to do it while he still could, Penny would sit in the stroller, waving at strangers as if the zoo were her own personal parade, charming every adult she met effortlessly. And Mel would be there, too. He’d buy her lunch, he’d insist on it, that’s what friends do when they go out together. It’s not a date. It’s not a date. But it was close enough. He could still say nothing was happening, and all he really wanted anyway was to spend time with her. Innocent. Platonic. Nothing to worry about.