Chapter Text
When Robby reads the report, his stomach twists. His heart thuds agains his rib cage, his jaw clenches, and the headache that’s been building up all shift pounds behind his eyes.
The worst part is he was expecting it, really.
40%-60% of people relapse in their first year of sobriety, Robby knows the stats.
But, seriously? What was special about—Robby squints to read the date of the drug test—two days ago? How has Langdon managed to act normal since, without telling Robby? Has the past six weeks since Robby came back to work from his sabbatical meant nothing?
Was Langdon’s apologies, promises, and vows all bullshit? Robby hates that he’s not surprised.
Langdon was down to two tests a month, at random still, but a message of good faith and a step down from the usual once-a-week tests. The last test before this—this fucking relapse—was three weeks earlier, and completely and totally negative.
Robby wracks his brain for what has happened since, what could have possibly triggered Langdon into a relapse, into wrecking everything he’s spent so long trying to rebuild.
Robby comes up with nothing.
He knows he should calm down before trying to ask any questions, but he glances up from the tablet and immediately locks eyes with Langdon himself, who looks—
Fine. Normal. A little tired, sure, but they all were. Langdon smiles at Robby as if he didn’t just betray him. Again.
“Langdon,” Robby’s voice comes out sharp, “A word?”
Langdon looks confused as he follows Robby into North 3. He looks really confused when Robby shuts the door and pull the curtains closed.
“Everything alright, Robby?” Langdon asks.
The fucking nerve, Robby thinks.
“You tell me,” he bites out.
Langdon pauses in thought, “Uh, I think so? Wait, is this about that boyfriend from the MVA earlier—?”
“No,” Robby cuts him off, “Langdon. Is there anything you’d like to tell me.”
Langdon’s mouth opens and closes. He seems like he’s genuinely trying to think of something, remember whatever it is he did, as if he didn’t fucking relapse.
“Robby, man, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Langdon frowns.
Robby sighs, “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
“Okay, I’m really getting concerned,” Langdon swallows, “Are you okay?”
“Am I okay?” Robby exclaims, “Am I okay. Don’t fucking bullshit me, Frank. Don’t deflect. What the fuck did you do?”
“What the fuck are you talking about? I don’t know what’s going on right now!” Langdon insists, his brow furrowing.
Robby can’t fucking do this. He can’t stand here, again, in his ER, in front of Langdon, who is lying about his drug use. He trusts the tablet into Langdon’s arms.
Langdon recognizes the format. His face instantly pales, and he looks back up at Robby.
“What—“ Langdon starts.
“You relapsed,” Robby spits out, “You relapsed and you let me find out through your drug test?”
Langdon’s not looking at the tablet, he’s just staring at Robby. His jaw is slightly dropped, his face paled, and— he looks devastated.
“Robby,” Langdon’s voice wavers, “Something must be wrong with— I mean, I would never— You have to believe me, Robby, I haven’t—“
Robby takes a step forward Langdon, who’s frozen, gripping the tablet.
“Don’t lie to me!” Robby exclaims, nearly blind with anger, with hurt, with disbelief, “Don’t you fucking lie to me. Again.”
Langdon holds his fiery gaze for a split second before frantically scrolling through the results.
“I don’t—“ he tries, skimming through words, “I swear—“
Langdon reaches the end of the three page report. He’s silent. The only noise in the room come from bleeding through the walls, Langdon’s heavy breathing, and the blood rushing through Robby’s ears.
Langdon looks up.
“Robby, this— I haven’t relapsed. There’s nothing here.”
Robby can’t fucking believe him. First, he hides his relapse, then denies it when confronted, and now he’s gaslighting Robby?
Langdon must see this flicker of rage in Robby’s eyes, because he offers the tablet, “Maybe the system glitched. There’s nothing here.”
Robby snatches it back, scrolling to the section he saw those horrible, awful words, and— of course. There they still are. Robby turns the tablet back.
“Explain,” he demands.
Langdon reads the words. He looks back to Robby. He re-reads. He seems confused.
Oh great, Robby thinks, He’s going to play the innocent act.
“Robby,” Langdon’s voice is finally stable again, “That’s just dextroamphetamine.”
“Just dextroamphetamine?” Robby echos, voice rising, “Just dextroamphetamine. Jesus fucking christ, Langdon. It’s not Benzos, but it’s still a relapse. Another addiction is not the answer!”
“Okay, what the fuck is going on right now— is this a set up?” Langdon’s demands. He’s angry, as if he has any fucking right.
“You’re done,” Robby huffs, “You’re done, Frank. I tried— you just couldn’t get your fucking act together, could you?”
“You’re firing me for having ADHD? I’ll fucking sue you for discrimination—“
“What?” Robby freezes.
Langdon narrows his eyes, “Don’t think I won’t.”
“No, I— you what?”
“I’ll sue. I know my workers rights, okay?”
Robby’s totally and completely lost, now.
“Hold on, you did take the dextroamphetamine?”
“Yes, I took my prescribed medication,” Langdon snarks.
“Who the fuck prescribed you it?”
“My doctor?”
“The same doctor that gave you an endless supply of Benzos?” Robby yells.
Langdon snaps his jaw shut. He huffs a breath and rubs a hand down his face, exhaustion evident.
“I declared my prescription,” he explains, “feel free to call my psychiatrist if you don’t believe me or the pharmacist.”
With that, he pushes past Robby and storms back onto the floor, stalking off back to Central 9.
Robby does call the pharmacy. They confirm Langdon’s story—he picked up the new prescription of generic adderall two weeks ago. He’s on a strict two-week pick up schedule, 10mg of extended release; everything in line with common practices to minimize risk of addiction. He also calls Langdon’s psychiatrist, but hangs up after the first ring. He sits on the stairs, after, staring at his phone. He can’t really wrap his head around what just happened.
Robby jumped to conclusions, and now there’s something twisted and cold settled in his stomach. Something tells him this is different than the past months of cold-shoulders and passive aggressive ignoring Robby’s been doing to Langdon.
Langdon’s face—devastated and betrayed—appears every time Robby blinks.
It’s not surprising, really, Langdon having ADHD. It was a long-running joke for the first three years of his residency that he had the energy of a toddler and the attention span of one, too. Robby once saw Langdon down two RedBulls in three hours and then take a nap in the break room, so to say he’s unsurprised about the diagnosis is an understatement.
A lot of things slot into place—Langdon’s an addict, but to painkillers and downers, not any stimulant. Usually addicts start with low-impact substances (like benzos) and move up gradually to the hard stuff: the stimulants. Addicts with ADHD don’t behave the same—Robby remembers from some talk at a medical conference a few years ago—they stick to the downers to calm their overactive receptors.
The door opening snaps Robby out of this train of thought. It’s Dana, and she doesn’t look thrilled.
“You done moping? You do have a job, y’know,” She asks, frowning when Robby doesn’t laugh like he usually would.
“I’ll be there in a sec,” Robby sighs.
“What happened?” She steps fully into the staircase, letting the door shut behind her.
“Langdon’s drug panel came back positive—“
“Shit.”
“But, it’s a declared prescribed medication.”
“Oh, shit.”
“A disclaimer I didn’t see before I talked to him about it,” Robby trails off.
“Fuck,” Dana crosses her arms, “That’s why he looks like a kicked puppy. I thought you two just bickered about a case.”
“I wish,” Robby huffs, “I think I really fucked up.”
“You think?” Dana asks, “You’ve been on his ass ever since you got back from your break. And before that, too. Give the kid a break.”
“I know, it’s just—“
“Just what? He’s clean, he’s working with the program, he’s doing everything you outlined for his return. If you want more, you have to ask for it.”
Silence stretches between them. Robby doesn’t want to admit that she’s right, because that means admitting how much of a dick he’s been the past few months.
“If you’re not back in five, I’m calling Abbot,” She threatens, and turns on her heel, back to the floor.
Robby’s back in three, because he knows Dana is serious about calling Abbot. He doesn’t see Langdon, thankfully, but it’s just a ticking time bomb, at this point. Part of Robby wishes Langdon would just yell at him, call him out, get the hospital’s lawyers involved. He’s surely violated some kind of supervisor/subordinate regulation, and if there is a third party involved, maybe they could finally get over it.
Maybe Robby could finally get over it.
“Robby,” Langdon calls.
Fuck.
Robby turns, and sure enough, Langdon looks dejected.
“Langdon,” Robby nods.
“Can I present a case?” He asks, and—
Oh. Okay. They’re ignoring it. That’s fine, Robby can play along.
He nods, and follows Langdon to North 3.