Chapter Text
The chaos of Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Centre was barely muffled by the walls separating the locker room from the rest of the ER, but after nearly 15 hours on his feet, Frank barely had enough energy to even attempt to pay attention to whatever was happening out there. With a soft thump, his head fell back against the plaster behind him. He was drained, emotionally and physically. Ten months spent in rehab, counselling and with divorce lawyers really shook him out of the routine he was so thoroughly engrained into. At least it was the end of his shift! He really couldn’t wait to go back to his sad, dingy apartment and be reminded of how not only did Abby not want to see him anymore, but how Robby now struggled to look him in the eye. He couldn’t get over the words Robby said to him out on the helipad, or how he chose the new MS4, James Fucking Ogilvie, over him to assist on a trauma. The kid has barely any experience compared to Langdon, not to mention he seems like an utter dick-
Langdon’s attempts to wallow in self pity were abruptly cut short by the creak of the locker room door opening and closing. He could feel his bones groaning when he attempts to stand up straight at the sight of the newly appointed, Dr. Dennis Whitaker lingering near the door. An awkward tension arises between the two, whether that be from Langdon’s fall from grace as Robby’s favourite or the whole Santos situation, remains unclear.
“Sorry, I-“
“Long day?”
Their words muddling together as both try to break the tension around them, but end up just adding to it even more. A forced chuckle escapes Whitaker’s lips as he nods towards the senior resident.
“Uh, yeah. Long day. Guess you could say that,” Dennis retorts, moving towards his locker with a confident ease that definitely does not suggest he had a long day. Frank notices. Maybe the younger man is just good at masking his exhaustion, unlike Langdon. His posture has slowly been deflating throughout the entire interaction and the dark circles under his eyes only seem so much more prominent with the hospital’s fluorescent lighting.
Frank can’t even push himself to try to converse with the younger man. The stress of the day has taken over his body already. He doesn’t even realise it, but he ends up zoning out once again, leaving a silence between the two. It wasn’t like Whitaker’s attempt at conversation left much to be desired. He was just being polite. Yet again, Whitaker is able to distract him from his own thoughts as a hand lands on his shoulder. The touch is firm, confident. It’s unlike the almost nervous MS4 Langdon encountered 10 months ago. However, all the touch does is send a sinking feeling throughout his body. The same manhandling and touch he’s probably adopted from Robby. The same lingering hands on shoulders and arms that Frank was once the worthy recipient of.
“I’m fine, Dr Whitaker. Just tired,”
The words come out sharper than he intended as Langdon steps away from the touch and towards his own locker. Bottom corner. A physical reminder of how isolated from everyone else he suddenly is. Frank doesn’t miss the fleeting moment of hurt that crosses Dennis’ gaze. He has to swallow the guilt crawling up his throat down, alongside all the questions he is longing to ask about the Pitt, and Robby and everything else that’s been haunting his thoughts for the past 10 months. He doesn't want to feel this much disdain towards Whitaker, but it was almost second nature. He had replaced him, he was the new favourite - the 'most trusted physician' in the ER, as Robby so kindly put it. Frank was human though, he could feel that his prickly attitude had affected the other man. He avoided eye contact as he spoke again, but his hands stilled around the strap of his backpack as he pulled it out of the locker.
"I'm sorry, kid. It's been.. a hard first shift back. Maybe I'm not cut out for this anymore."
The attempted joke falls flat, probably making Frank seem even more pathetic to Whitaker. Grimacing, he glances up at Dennis. However, Dennis isn't looking at him with pity or discomfort, just a quiet understanding and the ghost of a smile. Oh. That's definitely not the reaction he was anticipating. All day people had been stepping on eggshells around him, looking at him like he couldn't be trusted or like he was the one who had just been through a trauma, rather than the patient. The silence between the two doctors was no longer thick with tension and rather slipped into something more comfortable. Frank's lips quirk into the similar barely there smile, mirroring Dennis' own. For the first time since he stepped foot in here this morning, he felt seen. He pulls the backpack onto his shoulder as he stands to his full height.
"Look after yourself, Langdon."
The words are a soft mumble from Whitaker's lips, one more gentle squeeze of Frank's shoulder and he's gone from the locker room as fast as he crept in. Huh.