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In the span of three months, Frank Langdon learned that Melissa could be a real bitch when she wanted to.
The last three months had been intense and full of change for both Frank and Mel. For starters, Frank had moved out of the house he had lived in for the past six years with his wife, Abby Langdon. Or maybe she was Abby Beaumont now—Frank wasn’t sure.
They had spent a month and a half arguing every time he came home from a shift, to the point where Frank sometimes chose to stay longer at the hospital just so Abby would already be asleep by the time he got back. One night, though, when he arrived, she was still awake.
“I think we need some time apart.” Abby sighed, pushing her red, curly hair away from her face. “This isn’t… this isn’t working. I’m too upset with you to even think about staying in this marriage, but… I don’t want to throw everything away, Frank.”
He sat down beside her, sighing. Frank rested his elbows on his knees, burying his face in his hands.
“I don’t either, Abs. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
The redhead leaned her head against his shoulder, and Frank wrapped an arm around her small frame, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Two days later, Frank was moving into an Airbnb closer to the hospital—the cheapest one he could find.
Since then, they only saw each other when Frank picked up the kids in the middle of the week and when he dropped them off again.
Robby had, in fact, left for his sabbatical after that Fourth of July shift, and the ER felt… different. Baran Al-Hashimi ran the department in a way that brought a sense of relief—not just to Frank, but to others as well. Samira had gone back to being the confident doctor he remembered from before rehab. McKay and Al-Hashimi had gotten along almost immediately once they were properly introduced after that Fourth of July shift, and, thinking about it, they stood for very similar things. Even Ogilvie, with his complete lack of tact and awareness, had flourished under Al-Hashimi’s supervision.
The biggest difference, however, was Mel.
Melissa was a talented doctor—Robby himself had admitted that to her—but, unfortunately, with everything going on in his personal life—because, no, Frank hadn’t spent ten months in therapy just to blatantly ignore Robby’s very obvious suicidal ideation—Robbinavitch hadn’t been the best supervisor for her, or for anyone in that ER, really.
Frank had always known Mel was an excellent doctor. That had never been in question. The problem was that the people around her didn’t seem to see it the way he did. Melissa was constantly pushed toward simpler cases, while the more complex ones were handed to Trinity or Whitaker. And while she never complained, Frank was close enough to notice the way her eyes lingered for a few extra seconds whenever residents below her year jumped in to take those cases.
Mel, however, slowly started to push back.
More than once, he saw her get frustrated with other residents when they asked for consults—especially because of charting. Whitaker and Trinity were always behind on their charting, mostly because they were constantly jumping from one complex case to another and never had time to sit down and write. The first time Frank saw Mel get annoyed about it was during a quiet shift a few days after the Fourth of July.
Trinity and Whitaker were arguing as they followed Mel to the nurses’ station. The blonde was holding her tablet, an irritated expression on her face.
From where he sat, Frank watched, hoping it wasn’t too obvious, as Mel suddenly turned around, her ponytail swinging with the movement.
“Listen, I don’t care who’s going to do it, but it’s not going to be me. Here.” She pressed the tablet against Whitaker’s chest, and he took it, slightly stunned. “Get it done and let me know when the patient’s labs come back.”
She walked off quickly, muttering something under her breath that Frank couldn’t quite catch before stepping into a patient’s room.
“Well… the kitten has claws.”
He looked over at Dana, who was watching the scene over the rim of her glasses. Frank never quite understood the point of her wearing them if she was always looking over them anyway. He shrugged and went back to his chart.
That was only the beginning of Mel’s shift in presence. Her patient scores were just as high as Samira’s, and the two of them seemed to have fallen into a silent competition to see who could outdo the other first. Mel grew more confident as time went on, and Al-Hashimi played a big role in that—especially when she made it clear that first- and second-year residents should report to third- and fourth-years.
Mel had “taken” Ogilvie and Joy under her wing, and as much as Frank disliked the guy, even he could see how much Ogilvie had improved under her supervision. And Mel herself learned to be a little rude with those who needed it.
Their friendship had been the most important development of all, at least in Frank’s eyes. It was as if they had picked up right where they left off before he was pulled from the program, as if the ten months without contact had never happened. Mel was his emergency contact just as much as he was hers. She had a key to his place, just like he had one to hers. They both knew each other’s locker combinations. Mel helped Frank with his temporary move, just like Frank helped Becca move full-time to Middle Hill—and spent that entire afternoon and evening holding Mel when she inevitably broke down crying as soon as she got home.
He called her when his sponsor didn’t pick up a desperate call after he lost a little girl who looked way too much like Penny during a night shift Ellis had asked him to cover. Fifteen minutes later, Mel walked into the ER in her pajamas to talk to Abbot—and whatever she said made Abbot look at her with more respect and let a very shaken Frank leave.
In general, people at work knew that wherever one of them was, the other was probably nearby. Frank reminded Mel to drink water, and Mel gently nudged Frank out of the way when they needed to transfer a heavier patient. Frank kept a pack of hair ties in his locker, and Mel kept Red Bulls in hers that she never drank.
Overall, they took care of each other.
Maybe that was why Robby was already on edge by the end of his first shift back after his three-month sabbatical.
Frank had kept his distance from him all day, but of course, fate wasn’t satisfied and pushed them together with just an hour and a half left in the shift.
The patient came in unstable.
Active seizure, oxygen dropping, the team moving too fast for any side conversations. Frank was already at the gurney when they wheeled the patient into the bay.
“Seizing, unknown history,” someone said.
Frank nodded, already pulling on gloves, catching out of the corner of his eye as Mel walked in, Robby right behind her.
“Get me lorazepam, two milligrams IV.”
The order came out easily. Frank didn’t think twice about it—he’d been making that call daily for the past three months.
It was enough for Robby.
“Mel—take this one. Dr. Langdon is going to help at triage.”
The shift in direction was abrupt enough to make two people stop mid-motion.
Frank froze for half a second, the medication already in his hand, handed to him by Jesse. He glanced around the room, counting—Mel, Jesse, Robby, and two techs who had started a few days ago whose names he still hadn’t learned.
Mel didn’t move, her brows knitting behind her glasses.
“Dr. Robby, it’s his case.”
“I said take it.” His tone sharpened.
The monitor beeped louder.
Frank was still there, still in gloves, still looking at the patient as if he hadn’t heard anything. As if he were pretending not to.
Mel took a breath, and he already knew she was going to say something.
“If you want me on it, I’ll help,” she said, steady. “But I’m not taking it from him.”
Robby let out a humorless chuckle.
“I leave for three months and you become insubordinate, Dr. King?”
“I think this is about your consistency.” She ignored the comment.
Now Robby’s gaze pierced straight through her.
“You don’t get to question my calls, Mel.”
“Then don’t make them like this.”
Silence.
Jesse watched the scene unfold before speaking:
“Oxygen’s dropping—she’s at 88.”
Both Mel and Robby ignored him.
“If you want me to take the case, I will.” Her voice remained controlled. “But this is Frank’s patient.”
Hearing his name like that felt… intimate. And Frank knew Robby had noticed too, if the slight furrow of his brow meant anything.
Mel continued:
“I didn’t see you pulling Trinity off her case earlier when she flagged that kid for abuse.”
A beat.
“Or Whitaker when that farmer coded on him.”
Robby’s jaw tightened.
“Those were different.”
“Were they?” she shot back immediately. “Because those were personal too.”
Robby pressed his lips together, holding himself back.
“Keep going,” he muttered before walking out, pushing the swing door with his hand.
Nearly thirty minutes later, Frank watched Mel and Robby from a distance—far enough that he couldn’t make out a single word.
He didn’t need to.
It was clear Mel had said something that caught Robby off guard. Funny—watching it felt almost like seeing Collins put him back in his place all over again.
Frank could only guess what had been said in that conversation, but after it, Robby chose to ignore his existence and let him work in peace.
Melissa could be a real bitch.
And that day, he learned that sometimes, she did it for him.