Work Text:
Mel ends her Shift From Hell on the roof. She should go home, but it’s a long walk, and there won’t be anything waiting for her when she gets there.
She’s not sure why she’s chosen the roof, other than she’s seen Dr. Abbot coming in from the stairwell a few times at the start of her shift, looking windswept and a little lighter—and when she got to the stairs she just kept going up, and up, and up.
The air is hot and thick and miserable, even for almost nine p.m. There’s not even a whiff of a breeze, because of course there isn’t, so Mel is forced to sit with the weight of all the day’s troubles as she sweats through her scrubs.
She smells horrible. She’s hungry. The knot on the back of her head feels hot and tender, even ten hours later. She wishes she could cry, but she doesn’t have the energy. So she just sits there. The sky is kind of like a lava lamp, she thinks, vaguely orange and bubbly with hazy clouds, except it doesn’t feel relaxing at all.
Behind her, the door scrapes open against the concrete, unpleasant and grating, and she braces against the sound, waiting for a reprimand, some form of You can’t be up here, but—
It’s only Dr. Langdon.
“Hey,” he says, and that’s it. He lingers by the door, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He looks at the clouds, then back at her, then the clouds again, then his shoes, all very intently.
“Hi,” she says finally.
His eyes snap back up to hers, a little wide, very blue, and he approaches slowly, cautiously, sitting down beside her like she’s a wounded animal.
She certainly feels like one. There is so much happening inside of her and she doesn’t know what to make of any of it. She feels angry. Sad. Hurt. There’s an ache in her chest she’s been ignoring for as long as she can remember, but it’s bigger now, raw and chafed and loud. She wasn’t a good doctor today. She’s not sure she’s a good doctor at all, or a good sister—or even a good person, the way she’s just one big festering wound, wide open and bitter and jealous.
“You okay?” Dr. Langdon asks.
“Not really,” she says.
He does not disappear. He does not walk away. He does not find something more important or more interesting before she’s even finished her answer. He stays, leaning forward until he catches her gaze and then keeps it, like he’s searching for something.
Everything inside her starts to untangle.
“I’m sorry,” he says, “if I overstepped with Becca today. I know that no one knows better than you what’s best—”
“No.” Mel shakes her head. “No, it’s not—it’s not that. You were right. I’m not—it’s not the sex I’m upset about. Or the boyfriend. I mean—I’m a little uncomfortable.”
He huffs a soft laugh.
“This was always the goal,” she says. She tries to keep her breathing even, her words level and sure. “It’s why we did the supportive decision making, why we chose Middle Hill. It was so she could have her own space, make her own schedule, make her own friends. Her independence has always been the goal, so I’m not upset about that. I can’t be.” Her next breath is shaky. “But I’m hurt that she didn’t tell me. And I’m upset that—I feel like—I’ve given everything for her. I chose Pittsburgh for her. I took out more debt in med school so I could support us both. I never went to a party or lived in a dorm or joined a club because of her schedule. And she—she didn’t even tell me.”
She’s unable to stop herself now, like a freight train barreling down a hill, poised to crash and burn at the bottom.
“And today I’ve had to face the fact that I’m—I’m alone. I don’t have any family. I haven’t really made any friends. And now that Becca blew me off to watch the stupid fireworks with her stupid boyfriend, I have nothing to do. I have no one, and—God, there was this criminal today. And he asked me what I like to do. And I didn’t even know. Who am I? What do I like? And so I am mad at Becca. It’s not her fault. I did this. But I’m mad—or, or resentful, maybe—that I gave her everything and now there’s nothing left for me.”
She’s crying now. She doesn’t know when she started, only that there are tears on her cheeks and stuttered breaths rattling in her chest.
“Sorry. That was—I know I’m not being fair. I shouldn’t have said all that.”
“You feel better, though,” says Dr. Langdon, but he doesn’t phrase it as a question.
Mel nods.
“Good.” He spins his wedding ring around with his thumb. It’s so loose, Mel doesn’t know how he hasn’t lost it yet. “Can we circle back to the criminal thing, though? Are we talking about the guy that pushed you this morning?”
Mel hums. “Yes.”
“You think he was flirting with you?”
“Yes. Well—I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Jesus. How’s your head?”
“Hurts,” she grumbles.
“Fuck that guy,” he mutters. “I hope they caught him.”
“I don’t.” When he frowns at her, she shrugs. “I don’t want to testify. I don’t really care if he steals beer.”
“He assaulted you.”
“Well I don’t think he meant to. I just—I can’t sit up there in front of everyone and—and—all the questions—I just—” She shakes her head. “Not again.”
He sighs, but he doesn’t argue. “Right. Your deposition. You never said how it went.”
“They were…very aggressive.”
“They’re just trying to squeeze every penny they can out of the hospital. You can’t take it personally.”
“Everyone keeps saying that, but it’s kind of hard when their argument hinges on my incompetence.” Her eyes sting again, but she won’t cry this time. She won’t.
“Hey. That’s bullshit.”
Mel hears him scoot closer, but she keeps her gaze trained on the darkening horizon. She can feel his warmth at her shoulder. His fingertips graze her back, only for a moment.
“You’re a good doctor, Mel. Don’t let a bunch of asshole lawyers tell you any different.”
When she turns her head to look at him, he’s right there. There’s dried sweat on his brow, too. The top of his shirt is stained a shade darker where it peeks out from the scrub top. Mel can’t help but think how badly she wishes he’d hug her. When was the last time anyone hugged her? She is always the one doing the hugging, the comforting, the consoling.
But he doesn’t. So Mel just nods into the crook of her elbow. He seems pleased enough.
The sun is mostly gone, leaving behind little puffs of pinkish clouds. The barest hint of a breeze blows around them, and Mel’s eyes flutter closed as her sweat cools on her skin. She listens to Dr. Langdon shift beside her, to the deep breaths he pulls in through his nose. She wonders if he counts them, like she does sometimes when she’s overwhelmed.
“You know, I haven’t told anyone this,” he starts.
Mel waits, but the only sound he makes is a frustrated exhale. When she opens her eyes, it’s dark—at least as dark as it gets in the city—and a red light blinks somewhere above them. She watches it reflect off his ring as he fiddles with it.
“My wife and I are separated,” he says finally. “I wore the ring today because I didn’t want anyone to judge me, I guess. But we’ve been separated for nine months. She hasn’t divorced me for real, yet, but she made me get my own place. I only see my kids every other weekend.”
“I’m sorry,” Mel says.
“It’s not like I was expecting a welcome party, or anything, coming back here. I betrayed a lot of people’s trust. I said some—I was really horrible to Robby. And to Santos. But I was here for four years before that. I had friends here—good friends, I thought. And I was gone for ten months, and no one texted. No one even asked where I went.” He shrugs, and the ring pops over his knuckle, lingering there before he shoves it back down. “So I guess I’m on my own, too.”
“I would’ve,” Mel whispers. “I would have reached out. But I didn’t know what happened—”
“Mel, I didn’t mean you. I wouldn’t expect—you knew me for like, twelve hours. Hardly a whole day.”
“It was an impactful day,” she says quietly.
He lets out a puff of air, and she can see the muscle tick in his jaw where he clenches his teeth. As he looks out over the city, the lights waver in the whites of his eyes.
“Yeah,” he says roughly. “It was.”
Mel thinks about reaching for him. About giving him the hug she so desperately wanted when their roles were reversed two minutes ago. But the moment passes, and Dr. Langdon shapes his backpack into some sort of makeshift pillow and reclines back onto it, pointing at the horizon.
“I’m pretty sure we’ll be able to see the fireworks from here,” he says. “Have you seen them since you’ve lived here? They’re kind of insane. See—there?”
Mel follows his finger, and sure enough, the show has started. Their view is obstructed by a couple buildings and the haze from the day, but it’s still beautiful, the colors exploding in arcs across the sky. They aren’t loud, just distant echoey pops—pleasant, almost relaxing—and so Mel mirrors Dr. Langdon and lies back onto her own backpack.
The silence between them is comfortable. Companionable, even. It’s not quite like she planned—squished on the park lawn with Becca and a thousand other people—but she’s not alone, either.
After, when all that’s left is the smoky haze of sulfur, Dr. Langdon pulls her to her feet. She does hug him, then, her arms flung around his neck, and he hugs her back. He holds her tighter than she expected, and she does feel comforted. Consoled.
“Thank you, Dr. Langdon,” she says, a bit sheepishly, once she’s let go. “For all of this.”
“Of course. And my friends call me Frank,” he says, but then he grimaces. “That’s not true, actually. They mostly call me Langdon. But what I’m saying is—you can call me Frank. If you want.”
She follows him down the stairs to the main lobby and then out onto the street. She usually leaves through the ED, so it takes her a second to get her bearings, and when she finally sorts them out, Frank is watching her carefully.
“You walk?” he asks.
“Oh.” When she turns back around, his brow is furrowed in concern. “Um. Yes?”
“It’s late,” he says.
Mel isn’t sure what she’s supposed to take from that, so she just nods.
He looks over his shoulder toward the parking lot, then up at the sky, like the darkness has offended him in some way. Then, he looks at her, and Mel suddenly feels like she’s back up on the roof, but standing on the edge, looking over a great precipice about to swallow her up.
“You want a ride?”