Chapter Text
He got what he wanted didn’t he? He's back at work, being a doctor, has been sober for 10 months, he’s doing good; that’s all he wanted. But it’s not right, nothing is fully right anymore. Abby left him, took the kids with her…almost no one trusts him…Robby hates him, Santos too, for good reason. He’s a no good, liar, thieving, addict who ruined everything. But he's got the hospital…he still is a doctor…that’s something right?
Wrong. It’s not enough. Nothing is ever enough for him anymore. His old coworkers don't trust him the way they used to, every corner he turns is hushed whispers and side eyed glances, his banishment to triage is slowly becoming a mind melting nightmare. The random drug tests are humiliating, the judgment was tiresome, and the banishment was debilitating. He was no longer the golden boy, ER Ken. He's a shadow on the wall, an insignificant ghost that haunts his coworkers out of the corner of their eyes. They see him, but they don’t care. Not all of them at least. There's Mel and Cassie, but even then they're always busy with a trauma; working outside triage. He never realized just how lonely he could be surrounded by people. Rehab was lonely, sure, hours upon hours of silence with his mind running at a mile a minute. Analyzing his past moves, his mistakes, his achievements, his relationships, everything you could think of, Frank thought through it all in those 10 months. Those lonely 10 months that were followed by an even lonelier 3 months.
He hasn't seen his kids in over a year, not in person at least. Abby won’t let him and there's no way a judge would side with him after they find out what he's done. He goes home everyday to an empty, shoebox studio apartment on top of a busy club a few blocks from the hospital. That’s all he has now, a few facetime calls to his kids and a shitty ass apartment. He’s practically nothing now, scratch that, he is nothing. Who is he without his family, his friends, his reputation? He lost everything, except his job, but even then it's not the same. Nothing is the same. The addiction has taken everything from him. It's all gone and he doubts it’ll ever get back. Maybe that's why he's sitting on the roof of his apartment, maybe that's why he's contemplating just sliding off the edge into the dirty, damp alleyway. Would be a fitting place to take his final breath, in a place that matches him perfectly. Cold, depressing, dirty, and forgotten; all those words that fit him. But no matter what his brain tells him, he knows he has to turn around; that he has to keep going. He can’t leave his kids completely, he can’t leave them without their father alive. With a sigh, Frank slowly stands up and walks towards the roof access door. Walks away from the edge, from his depressing resting place of his suicidal thoughts. Walks all the way down the stairs and out to the street, taking the tiring steps to work. To the place of his banishment, his punishment where the shackles he wears hang heavier with the guilt and shame. Where the glares from Robby and Santos horrify him, where the rare smiles from Dana and Samira make him queasy, where Mel and Cassie are the only ones who talk to him outside of medical, professional speak.
He’s in the locker room before he even realized he walked into the ED. Shaking his head, he slowly bent down and punched in the 4 digit code to his locker and shoved everything into it. Frank let out another sigh as he rested his forehead on the locker above, eyes shut to stop the tears as he braced himself for the loneliness of the day. You’d think by now he’d be used to it but nope. He still longs for what he once had, how he once felt. He hates feeling like this, feeling like he doesn’t even want to get up in the morning, like he's not good enough, like he's not worth all the trouble he's causing, just everything really. A throat clearing startled him out of his funk, eyes and head snapping up to see Santos standing there with a guarded look on her face.
“You gonna sit there all day or?” She asked, eyes assessing him as she crossed her arms in front of her. Frank let out a muffled groan as he stood up completely before nodding.
“Yeah… uh s-sorry about that.” He mumbled as he shifted around her and out towards triage, blinking his eyes to clear them of the tears. He quickened his pace to not get stopped again, making it successfully to triage before Robby could spot him. Picking up a clipboard for a patient, he walked over.
“What brings you in today?” he asks the lady who was sitting in one of the chairs with a piece of fabric covering half her face. After going through the motions of stitching a cut on the lady’s cheek, he checked himself outta the room and grabbed the next patient’s chart. His body knew what to do while his brain checked out, hours slipping by until it was almost time to clock out.
“Everyone, we have a MCI incoming. We need all hands on deck!” Dana yelled out, catching everyone’s attention. Frank let out a deep groan, hands threading through his hair and pulling harshly once before he charged over towards Dana and Robby.
“Where do you need me?” He mumbled out, eyes never meeting Robby’s glare.
“Go with Mohan and Mel.” Robby grumbled out as he pointed towards yellow. Frank gave a soft hum of acknowledgment before moving to stand next to Mohan. Thoughts rampaged through his already shattered mind as he bounced back and forth on the balls of his feet, anxiety and his adhd going haywire with his racing mind. Nothing was okay. Nothing is right. His family, his career, his friendships, relationships, his whole life has gone to utter shit and there's no one to blame but himself. He trapped himself in this hell. Doctor Frank Langdon made his own bed and now he has to rot in it.