Work Text:
My life seems unreal
My crime an illusion
A scene badly written
In which I must play
Yet I know as I gaze
At my young love beside me
The morning is just a few hours away.
~Simon and Garfunkel,
Wednesday Morning, 3 A.M.
It was the first day of September, and the night before - after he put his kids to sleep - Frank Langdon had taken enough benzos to put down a horse.
He woke up groggily five minutes before his alarm went off, at 4:55 am, something that had been happening more and more lately. Today from two AM to approximately 4:55 am, Frank had tossed and turned, thankfully not waking up Abby in the process (She was always a heavy sleeper though. Frank used to be. Not anymore). He'd been in and out of sleep, and finally when Frank was certain he'd dose off, he woke up, checked the digital clock that read 4:55, and realized there was no point.
That had been happening more lately, along with the pain in his back that stopped being subdued when he first started taking the benzos. He realized that he wasn't really taking them for his back anymore. He should've realized that when he realized he could snort the stuff for a faster, more intense effect. He also realized that he didn't care that he was snorting it.
Nonetheless, Frank reached over the nightstand and scrambled for his phone in the dark, squinting at the blaring light that immediately made Frank's head pound like a bitch, and swiped his alarm off, just before Abby would hear. He stayed in bed to merely recover from the flash of his phone. He didn't know how much time had passed until Abby stirred beside him, and it hit Frank that it was 5:30 in the morning and that meant he had... thirty minutes to: a) shower b) dry his hair c) get dressed d) eat something e) brush his teeth. He had to be in by six-thirty, the drive wasn't terribly long, but that depended on the traffic so he had to cut two of these things to make it.
Frank already knew that he'd skip breakfast so he could cross that off the list, it's not like he had much of an appetite nowadays, and would just do his usual routine of taking a red bull on an empty stomach to perk up. He had to brush his teeth and obviously get dressed. This left only one more thing to cut off that to-do list. If he skipped his shower, then he wouldn't have to dry his hair (still, it was gross, and this was a fucking twelve-hour shift).
So Frank decided that he'd shower, but not dry his hair, and hope that it'd dry by the time he got to work. He'd just blast the AC in his car despite it being September, and he hoped the AC would wake him enough that he could be the amazing doctor that he was. Except that in the shower a wave of nausea hit and had no time to condition his hair because that five minutes spent doing that was replaced with Frank fighting the urge to puke. Thankfully he didn't, but he kind of wished he did.
It's when Frank came out of the shower that Abby was awake, and in the bathroom, after hearing him gag his brains out.
"Couldn't sleep?" Frank asked.
Abby had always tried to wake up before Frank went to work, but lately it was something Frank had been trying to avoid. He told himself it was to give Abby some time to rest before she had to take care of the kids, because she was an amazing mom and didn't deserve all the stress that came with raising two children under five, but Abby tried to wake up anyway, because she was concerned that Frank wasn't getting enough to eat in the mornings, and Frank felt real shitty about that.
It also didn't help that she heard him gagging just now, furthering her suspicions.
"You didn't wake up at five," said Abby, in her night robe. Pine green. Like the pills he'd take. The thought made him giddy, knowing he was meeting his dealer right after work, and the nausea went away a little. Now he needed to get to work, and it didn't fucking help that Abby was here. "And I heard you in there. Frank, you need to eat."
Frank almost wanted to say it was ironic, that Abby was telling him to eat. Frank remembered, back in college and his first year of med school, when Abby obviously kind of sort of definitely had an eating disorder and went through these weird periods of starving herself for three days. But, like, you couldn't say that to your wife who loved you and you feel like a bigger asshole than you normally do at merely thinking of saying that to her.
"You know the Adderall messes with my appetite," Frank told her instead, which wasn't a lie, as he did take it on account of his ADHD. Even though he hadn't really been taking it lately because he had something better - and no, it didn't come from a pharmacy.
But Frank also knew that his ADHD meds had been a rift between him and Abby for the ten years that they'd known each other, with Abby always saying that he had to take them and he couldn't skip them, because she was nice and looking out for him, so Frank knew to use her compassion and concern for that. Why not.
Naturally, Abby accepted this. "Okay," she said, her voice sounding strange. "Try to eat something when you get there. Even if it's from the vending machine."
Frank was not going to do that because if he thought about food, then the nausea would come back again. It was coming back now, so Frank didn't fucking appreciate Abby talking about this. But then Abby wrapped her arms around him and pressed her lips against his and said I love you and now Frank felt shittier.
So Frank got into his car and blasted the AC, but the nausea wasn't going away, so Frank decided that nicotine would help and took a hit from a shitty disposable vape. Abby didn't know that he picked up vaping. There were a lot of things she didn't know about. The nicotine headrush hit and he felt much better actually, but it was probably getting rid of the high from yesterday night, which Frank was kind of bummed out about.
Frank got to work, his hair mildly damp because the AC barely did shit, but at least there was no traffic so this was a win. But his colleagues noticed the hair, which sucked. Garcia made a joke that he looked less of an ER Ken and more of a wet houseplant. Like, yeah, it was funny, but Frank wasn't in the mood to laugh. Robby looked at him in that Robby-like way of noticing something was up with him, a way to probably deflect from his own problems, but wouldn't press.
That role belonged to Dana.
"I overslept," Frank stated, before she could pester him with questions. "Had no time to dry my hair."
Dana gave him a look that was a mix of no-nonsense and motherly. "Alright... how about something to eat?"
Frank's stomach churned. "Vending machine," he said instantly.
Dana frowned, obviously in disapproval (also in concern, which was really making Frank feel guilty) but nodded once. "You have time now. Everyone's preparing for the new kids coming in at the end of the week." Oh right. This upcoming Friday they were getting new interns and med students. How wonderful.
Yeah, so, Frank didn't eat anything that morning, because he still felt kind of nauseous, and he obviously couldn't hit his vape out in the hospital as that'd be generally frowned upon. He'd do it outside or in the bathrooms like every other staff member did.
The comedown started a few hours into his shift, and Frank was miserable. He'd thought about going back into his car to do a line, just to get through the day but even Frank wasn't that stupid. But at least he could wait until he got home. So instead he excused himself to go to the bathroom to hit his vape. It was the fifth time he did that today and it wasn't even noon yet. This time, when he came out of the bathroom, Robby was waiting.
"If you're sick, you shouldn't be here," Robby told him sternly, but there was concern in that voice. (Ugh. It made Frank feel great... and awful. Great because Robby cared about him. Awful because... Robby cared about him).
"I'm not sick," said Frank.
"Something's clearly up with you."
Frank filtered his brain for a proper answer that would shut Robby up. His co-workers knew his youngest child turned two and could self-soothe to sleep, so a baby keeping him up during the night wasn't an excuse anymore. And he couldn't say that it was allergies, even though it was allergy season, because Frank had once proudly boasted that he didn't get allergies. This was what he fucking got for sharing things about his personal life with his co-workers.
"I started taking my Adderall again." Frank didn't hide his ADHD from Robby. He was sure everyone in the Pitt knew, but Robby was one of the few people there he explicitly told about it, since Frank was sort of... attached to him. This was a more pleasant way of saying that Frank's father was an asshole.
Robby's eyebrows went up. "You tried going off of it?"
"Yeah." Yeah because I've been taking benzos instead on account of my back getting hurt because of my stupid fucking dad telling me I should help him move, and I did because I desperately wanted his approval after thirty years, and it's clearly not enough for him, so now it's just easier to use benzos.
Robby looked uncomfortable. Frank hated that shit. If there was one thing Frank took pride in, was being Robby's go-to for everything, and vice-versa. For five years he'd been at this place all he wanted was Robby's approval, and for him to look like that, it just-
"Well stay on it," ordered Robby, rather awkwardly.
Yeah. Despite that order coming from Robby, Frank wasn't going to do that. "Alright." And Frank managed to eat two snickers bars without vomiting back up, washed it down with a bottle of water (balance), and got back to work.
Near the end of his shift though, Frank was really starting to feel the effects of not having benzos in his system (withdrawal symptoms. Ugh) and everything started to drag and he just wanted to get his pills. Fearing that he might not make it, that he would collapse in the ED and raise far too many questions, he contemplated that maybe he should pop a Zofran in his mouth, before deciding to chug another red bull even though it guaranteed he wasn't going to sleep well tonight.
(Bleecker Street)
At the end of the shift - relieved, ecstatic, of what was waiting for him when he got home - Frank felt McKay's eyes on him by the lockers, which unsettled him. For some reason, it felt like McKay - of all people - was fucking onto him. It would be her, even though she was two years behind him, but she wasn't as naive as some first year would be. Probably.
"Have a good night," McKay told him.
"Goodnight," Frank said quickly, and prayed the night time traffic wouldn't be bad. Except that it was, and as much as Frank wanted to do a key bump he was driving and Frank didn't think he'd forgive himself if he got on the road and something awful happened because he was under the influence. Oh, and he still felt nauseous, because of the withdrawal and the fact that Frank had less than eight hundred calories today, and hitting the vape wasn't helping anymore - in fact, it accelerated it.
Right now, Frank was getting his shit from the street. Which was really fucking expensive, so he never bought too much at one time - well, except that he did. It's another thing that'd been happening more lately. The dealing was brief and Frank was thankful - though Frank wondered if there was a way to get high for free. The thought was in the back of his mind; a patient that was in every day for alcohol abuse and had to be prescribed a variety of benzos over the past year that he'd never take. But Frank would never act on stealing from the hospital. Probably.
Frank waited until he was in his driveway to pop two pills in his mouth, and the nausea... didn't go away exactly, but less pronounced than before. Maybe it was a sign to stop. Or it was a sign to increase his dosage because he built up tolerance. Frank went with the latter.
And now he'd have to look at Tanner and Penny in the eyes and be the best dad he could be, totally sober, totally in-his-mind, not drifting forward and back, the sounds in his head slightly muffled; but not like how it used to be the first time this happened. Frank wanted to get back that feeling so fucking bad. But this was... okay.
Manageable. Functional.
Because of Frank taking those benzos in the car, he could manage to eat dinner with his family, which he had to, because he was sure that Abby was watching him like a fucking hawk and making sure he would have a full meal, since she would correctly guess that all he had were those two snickers bars and two cans of red bull. Except that it's crockpot night, Frank fucking hated the crockpot but didn't have the heart to tell Abby tonight, especially since Frank (sort of but not really) lied to her about why he was trying not to throw up at five-forty-five in the morning. So he deserved this. Probably.
He did manage to eat it (ugh), earning a satisfied look from Abby, and Frank, for a moment, felt normal, and then felt this weird wave of shame of seeing his family so normal. Tanner chatted about an episode of Little Einsteins that Abby let him watch on the computer via YouTube, since that's what Frank grew up with, and he would be damned if his son's brain got rotted by that Cocomelon shit. Penny spoke one or two words, much quieter than her older brother, naturally. But after dinner, Penny wanted to snuggle, and who the hell was Frank to say no to his darling angel?
Except that while Frank was rocking her in the chair (even though she could put herself to sleep, Abby told him that she was old enough, but Frank wanted to cherish every moment he could before Penny would eventually ask him to stop) he felt his eyes droop a few times against his will. Probably because he tried going to bed at ten PM (after ingesting so many pills) fell asleep at midnight, and was in-and-out of sleep from two in the morning to five am. So - at most - he got four hours of sleep. Frank managed to stay awake this time, and briefly wondered if he should shower at night to avoid the hair-being-wet fiasco that was this morning. But he decided no, that won't happen again. Penny went to sleep easily; Frank did his usual routine of carrying her to her crib, though Abby mentioned transitioning to a toddler bed for her.
But then it was time to get Tanner ready for bed, which - even without the benzos in Frank's system - was always a hassle. Frank could see it already; the signs of ADHD so young, because it wasn't typical four-year-old behavior that Tanner was exhibiting. Tanner was always restless, fucking always. It took an hour to get him to calm down, at the very least, and by the time Tanner's down Frank wanted to go to bed to actually get some sleep for a change. Except right now he wasn't tired at all, and Abby had her arms around him, and kept saying in a loving tone she was proud of him for eating something, and Frank felt a mix of guilt and strangely kind of horny.
It's not like he and Abby hadn't had wild sex before (uh, might be TMI, but they had Tanner and Penny fairly quickly after getting married, and even prior to getting married, there had been many pregnancy scares) but nowadays it felt... odd. Not bad, sex was sex, and he could take it when he could get it, but he wanted to try to actually getting some sleep even though he wasn't tired. The first time he had benzos, his back didn't hurt at all, and the sex lasted two hours, it was fucking amazing.
Now?
Eh.
They went to bed at ten. Well, Abby went to bed at ten. Frank didn't fall asleep until eleven, the earlier wave of shame hitting him again but much harder this time.
(The Sun is Burning)
It was the second day of September, and Frank woke up at two-thirty instead of five like his alarm clock would tell him to. Frank remembered a time where he'd relish in this, knowing that he had extra time and he would easily go back to sleep.
Nowadays when this happened, Frank would lie in bed unable to move, unable to sleep, nothing to do but stare at the ceiling contemplating if he should take benzos before heading into his next shift. Except right now, Frank had a horrifying realization, that he couldn't, because he took all three miligrams of it yesterday evening and there wasn't anything left. There wasn't a drop a dopamine in his brain and it made him want to crawl out of his skin and jump out the window.
The irrational fear that made Frank hear his own racing heartbeat took over for about ten seconds, because he needed to get through the day, and didn't know how - until he realized he had his own Adderall prescription bottle with the label Frank Langdon. The perks of having ADHD, Frank supposed, as he let himself get lost in the crushed adderall that went up his nose at four in the morning when he finally managed to get up. It was prescribed to him, so it was fine. Probably.
But that wasn't enough, of course, 10mg was his prescription and that was his last pill, a last resort that wasn't a last resort anymore, so he made a mental note to let Abby know during his shift to refill his prescription.
It only occurred to him now that he snorted his own Adderall on an empty stomach, which was probably not the best idea, so Frank guzzled down two red bulls, and hoped no one would notice him switching between sweating and shivering during his shift. Except the second he got into work, the nausea came back stronger than yesterday, so he immediately went to the bathroom. Nothing came up due to no food (and barely any water) in his system, other than two red bulls he drank a little too fast. So he was just dry heaving violently. And he really didn't want to throw up his Adderall because that would be such a waste. Oh, and his hair was still wet. He had no time to dry his hair whatsoever despite waking up at two.
Frank decided that he should take something from the vending machine to settle his stomach, which were crackers, and it managed to work – barely – so he decided that he should take a few hits from his vape in the large stall, and then eat a little more. An hour into his shift, Garcia asked with a puzzled expression if he had been taking his ADHD meds, and Frank almost laughed at that.
For context, Yoyo had been his closest friend since they were in med school, so she knew all about his distaste for ADHD meds, despite him being a wreck without them, that Garcia had to let Abby know that Frank was trying to skip because he'd literally drive himself into a ditch. So yeah, Garcia knew what unmedicated Frank was like.
But then Frank realized he was actually laughing - not almost - which explained how confused Garcia looked. It confused Frank too, because he was sure he was holding himself back. Hmph. That was new. Frowning, Garcia went over to... put her hand on his forehead. Weird. The last time she did this was back in Frank's third year of med school, when Frank was knee deep in textbooks and hadn't been taking his ADHD meds and his brain was going into overdrive. Also he had been a bit feverish.
"You're a surgeon," Frank reminded her, like she was a fucking idiot.
"Fuck you, I can take a temperature," was Garcia's response. Appropriate, honestly. "You don't have a fever, but you feel warm."
"I've been running around the ED for the past hour, it's busier than usual."
Garcia didn't buy that shit. "You seem..." she paused, trying to find the right word: "...wired."
That was the wrong fucking word to use. Frank's expression soured immediately. "You don't have to say it like that. Maybe-" He stopped, his heart racing in his ears as he thought of a good response, "-I had picked up vaping, I know, whatever, it's terrible for you, maybe that's got me like this."
It wouldn't be lie. Obviously he would omit the vaping in the bathroom (but like, everybody did that shit) but nicotine could do this - along with taking the prescribed Adderall (which he also, technically, did that morning). Frank was a doctor and he knew this. Garcia did too.
"You haven't smoked since med school," she said.
"Vaping is different."
"It's still shit for you. Drink water before Robby gets on your ass."
Oh yeah, Frank was aware of that, thank you very fucking much. And he wouldn't be surprised if Robby's eyes were trained on him like a goddamn prison guard somewhere across the department already. But this was very very bad, because snorting that adderall really wasn't smart, and he needed something to come down from.
Frank texted his dealer at approximately noon to see if they were meeting up, same time, same place, same pills (except maybe this time he could get a little more, though he'd always want a little more, and was willing to pay extra for it). Frank, between patients, would look at his phone to see if he answered back. An hour went by, and Frank was starting to get a little restless - up until he saw his dealer type two hours before he shift ended, and Frank got super excited because finally, an answer.
- and it died in his stomach as his dealer told him that he couldn't come, because he was in fucking Akron, of all places - a city in Ohio. And Frank's brain went into maximum overdrive because he wasn't going to drive to bumfuck Ohio when he had to be at work the next morning, and why the fuck didn't this piece of shit let him know ahead of time that he was going away to the hellhole known as Ohio. And despite Frank's no-good-very-bad-experience of snorting his prescribed meds, he only just remembered to text Abby to refill that prescription, because he actually did want to keep up appearances that he was (properly) taking his ADHD meds.
Frank's texts were a little desperate, asking when he'd come back to Pittsburgh, and it wasn't going to be for another three days. A hot wave of irritation swept through him so quickly it almost made him dizzy, but that was probably because of crackers and water being the only things in his system. And the red bulls (he had a third one). Frank didn't think things could get any worse, except that it did because Abby texted him saying that pharmacy ran out of ADHD meds, and Frank wanted to die even though he'd get it tomorrow, but tomorrow felt like years and Frank contemplated what it'd be like to fall from the hospital roof.
Like.
What the fuck was he supposed to do now?
Then Frank realized that he was a doctor. A doctor that prescribed medications. But then quickly brushed that aside; he wasn't going to fucking steal from the hospital.
His dealer was gone for three days. The pharmacy was out of medication. He'd eaten approximately six crackers in the last twelve hours. His heart rate was somewhere between "concerning" and "hummingbird." But it was fine though. Everything was fine. The fact that he wanted to smash his phone into the wall was probably unrelated.
One patient who didn't take his meds was prescribed Xanax (imagine not wanting to take Xanax, are you kidding) and another who didn't want to take Adderall (understandable, actually). Frank took enough Xanax that would last him just to get through the night. But then, he thought, he shouldn't take the Adderall. Not having the Adderall would benefit him greatly, as he had a proper excuse now of what others probably thought was his 'eccentric' behavior, though he'd always been eccentric.
He took the Xanax though.
(He Was My Brother)
The moment Frank left the hospital at 6 PM, he didn't feel guilt from stealing from a patient. No, Frank felt excitement; because he successfully found a solution in order to properly fuel himself and it's not like this person wanted to take the Xanax. Realistically, the milligrams he took would last most people three days, but Frank Langdon was not most people, and took seventy-five percent of it in the driveway in his car - telling himself that he'd save the rest before he went to sleep. The thought lasted approximately ten seconds once Frank realized that he felt great and why stop now, so he consumed the rest even though his nose felt a little blocked.
The first thing Frank was greeted with was Tanner pummeling into him and shouting obnoxiously loud. Frank had to pretend not to be thrown off by this and get his proper footing before scooping up in his arms, because even if Tanner was getting a little too big to be held like this, Frank would rather have back pain than not hold his children. It would be something that'd happen eventually, as they got older, and Frank once cried thinking about that inevitability.
The second thing Frank was greeted with was Penny peering up from the floor, no longer engrossed in those small alphabet magnetic tiles (Abby said they were never too young to learn the alphabet, even though Penny once tried to eat one), and aggressively hugged Frank's left leg.
The third thing Frank was greeted with was Abby apologizing profusely for not getting that ADHD meds, and Frank did not give a shit about that at all, because he'd taken so much fucking Xanax that it felt like he was floating. Also she looked really hot right now. Frank thought benzos were supposed to decrease his libido (they did at times) but maybe it was because of the Adderall he snorted, but that high wore off hours ago.
It occurred to Frank that the amount he took was higher than usual, he was starting to feel the effects strongly; almost like the first time he had a hit, but not quite. Still - it was a step closer to that first feeling that rattled his bones in the best way possible.
Frank ate a lot more at dinner compared to yesterday, because he always managed to eat something when he finally got the dopamine he wanted. Abby was so pleased that he was eating that she ignored him texting from under the table. His dealer would be gone until Saturday, which fucking sucked, because Frank only took the pills from the patient thinking it was a one-off, that it'd last until Friday at the very least when his dealer was supposed to come back, but no - it extended to Saturday. Putting the kids to bed was a chore like it usually was. Nothing too out of the ordinary. Nothing in the Langdon house was out of the ordinary. It was fine.
When Abby and Frank went to their bedroom at nine PM, it's Abby that spoke first. She told him that she knew that he'd been feeling off lately, and she was sorry that she couldn't get his medication, and she wanted to make it up to him. It was expected that when they had sex that Frank was the one in control fully, but there were days when Abby took the reins and honestly Frank preferred it that way right now.
Abby kissed him gently, on his lips, on his neck, on his shoulders, and kept working her way down. Frank didn't feel guilty, he decided, for taking those meds, because for a moment... Frank felt like when he met Abby for the first time, when she was nineteen and he was twenty and she hated him at first but he won her over, and they'd lie down on the campus grass for hours, hands locked together, until they'd be kicked out at midnight. That though he didn't come from money like she did she didn't care, and he took her on a date using his dad's old car which had a shitty CD player and played music he liked, which turned out to be what she liked.
She was so, so, so stunning. Frank let his hands get lost in that jet black hair of hers, it was probably one of his favorite things about her - that she twirled it absentmindedly when talking, when not talking, when simply breathing - and it was so endearing and cute. Her eyes, though. Green eyes that reminded Frank of an old Hollywood actress named Ava Gardner. A comparison that Abby loved, because she was fond of the Golden Age of Hollywood, but she also was a reality TV addict and that sharp contrast was one of the many things Frank loved about her.
But afterward, something felt off that Frank couldn't quite put a finger on. Frank felt his eyes water uncertain as to why, because he was having a wonderful night, and tried to blink the tears away - but he couldn't. Unfortunately Abby was still awake, and immediately looked concerned.
"Baby, what's wrong," her voice said softly. Then Frank just started... fucking bawling. Abby sat up straighter in bed, this concern should've made him feel better but no, it made him feel like the worst fucking person on planet earth, and Frank couldn't stop crying. "Baby. Talk to me. What's going on?"
"I don't-" he started, but it dissolved halfway through. He shook his head like that might help him. It didn't. "I don't know why I'm- I'm-"
Abby didn't panic. She just moved closer. "Rough shift?"
Sure. Why not. It wouldn't be inaccurate.
"It's... I don't know know why I'm-I'm-" Frank stammered like an idiot, because he felt terrible and he didn't know why. "I'm sorry. I'm just sorry-"
"I got you, Frank. It's okay. Shhh..."
She gathered him in his arms, what she usually did whenever he had a very rough day, and Frank knew that being in his wife's arms was the second best thing to do. And Frank already accepted what the first best thing to do was.
(Wednesday Morning, 3 A.M.)
It was the third day of September, Frank woke up at three in the morning and felt this wave of shame of what had occurred the night before. He took a moment to stare at the ceiling, realizing that he'd cried in front of Abby because of what he had done during his shift.
Frank turned over to watch the woman that he loved with everything he had peacefully sleep. Abby would always sleep kind of odd. Her body usually intertwine with Frank's until she moved over absentmindedly during the night, and the position she'd have was where she'd stay on her side (facing Frank, always, like she still wanted to make sure he was okay. He wasn't. Frank felt even worse) with her hair taking the space between her arms on the pillow. She also wanted her hair to sit on top of her pillow that made Frank's heart melt. She had no idea what was going on, or maybe she did, and Frank was still a prick in either of those two scenarios.
He remembered how he felt when he took those patients meds. He remembered Robby, McKay, Garcia, and Dana looking at him like something was wrong. He remembered the look on Abby's face when he started crying hysterically.
So Frank decided he wasn't going to do that again.
Oh no - not the drugs. He was still going to do that. But he wasn't going to take a patients prescription. Frank decided to text his dealer to let him know that after his shift, he was going to drive to Ohio. It was an hour and a half drive from Pittsburgh to Arkon but Frank didn't give a shit anymore and he had the next day off anyway. He'd make sure to text Abby that he'd be a little late getting home - three hours late, to be exact, depending on traffic. Saying that they needed all hands on deck. But Frank fucking hoped to God that that wouldn't actually happen because it would certainly delay when he'd get his next hit.
And he couldn't rely on the Adderall.
Frank's vape decided to die the moment he pressed it to his lips at five in the morning, when he decided to roll out of bed. He swore profusely under his breath, but decided that at least he was up and had enough time to shower. Maybe he was still kind of high from last night, because the water felt amazing. He stood there for ten minutes without washing his hair or his body, so he spent too much time and had to skip conditioning again, but at least he could blow dry it. If he got there at work a little earlier he could stop at the corner store nearby to purchase one. It actually... went sort of okay. Oh, Frank was still nauseous as all hell, but not like how it was yesterday (probably because he snorted the Adderall. Eh.) and managed to eat something before work and then decided to slam down a red bull.
His dealer texted him back and Frank was super giddy to hear that his dealer was offering him a nice fucking discount for being such a loyal customer (how awesome... and worrying) and offered so much fucking Xanax that'd last until he got back to Pittsburgh that Frank forgot entirely about his nausea, his headache, his backache, basically everything. It put him in such a good mood that Frank ate a lot more throughout the day compared to Monday and Tuesday, which pleased Dana that he was trying more to do that, and Robby had told Frank he did good work on a patient, catching a diagnosis that others would've dismissed. Really, Frank was on fire today.
Even as the withdrawal crept in, Frank was very optimistic. Abby texted him saying that she got his ADHD meds (Phew... Thank God) and he texted her back that it was going to be a longer shift and she replied with a heart message that made Frank feel like crap. But like, he was going to Ohio, for this amazing deal, so he was over it. Besides Frank was hitting his new vape like there's no tomorrow and drank two red bulls, so it kind of gave him a buzz (it honestly didn't do shit, and he couldn't fucking wait to get to Ohio).
"Dr. Langdon, forgive me, but do you always sweat this much?"
That had come from McKay.
"Well yeah, it's hot in here, I've been running a lot. We had three car accidents back-to-back for the past hour." And that was true. "So. You know. It's been nonstop."
McKay gave him a look that said she didn't fucking believe him. "Drink water."
Oh yeah, Frank should probably take up her offer, and practically gulped a water bottle down in one minute. He did feel a little better... maybe enough to eat something in order to put more weight on, because Dana - Dana had fucking said earlier that he'd been getting too skinny and Frank felt like everyone was talking about him, and obviously he couldn't have that. Except that he drank that water bottle too fast, the nicotine buzz was fading and he had two red bulls, so Frank just silently accepted his fate and decorated the toilet bowl with the Pringles he ate earlier. Thankfully no one heard him. And he felt... much better after he had thrown up, and because he figured he felt much better, he decided to hit his vape pen ten more times before heading back to work.
(Benedictus)
"There's my guy," Frank said over the phone, and asked Tanner to sing a song for him.
They'd just lost a four-year-old and Frank didn't know what was worse - the fact that he was reeling over this kid's death therefore he called Tanner or that Frank, while listening to his son's song, was counting down the hours until would get pills. Before the pills, before his back got hurt, before all of that - Frank never lost focus on his son's voice, a beautiful sound and it wasn't parental bias or anything.
No, Tanner was very musically inclined (whether he got it from his mother or his father was up for debate, as they both had fairly decent singing voices) and the first time Frank heard Tanner sing he cried, but right now his attention was all-over-the-place.
He had texted Abby saying he was going to be home late, on account of the heavy word load (the lie pressed onto him like the cool weather of September) and was thankful he didn't need to stay later at work for that reason. She'd texted him back saying she'd heat up his leftovers anyway, and Frank felt awful about that lie for about ten seconds once he realized that he was on his way to Ohio. He stopped for gas and made his way to the address his dealer texted. He should be asking his dealer why he was in Ohio anyway, but Frank didn't really care, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know if a drug dealer was in hiding.
Frank spent three hundred and fifty dollars on the stuff, the most he'd ever spent, but he got so much of it that'd last until the weekend when he'd come back to Pittsburgh and it was only Wednesday night. He'd space this out evenly until Saturday. Like, it was the smart and rational thing to do. And he'd gotten there quick too so he still had some time to spare and he was so giddy so he did key bump before he would even start the car, and kept driving. Yeah, he told himself he'd never do that. He told himself a lot of things.
When Frank got home, after ingesting some this time in the driveway, Abby asked him how work was. Frank said it sucked (not a lie). Tanner was still awake, which was strange but not so strange, because he couldn't go to sleep without seeing his dad first. Which was like, aw, but also made Frank feel worse because Frank low key wanted to go to bed now, that hopefully he'd get a full twelve hours tomorrow - considering he'd gotten a total of ten hours slept spaced out throughout the week so this should kind of even him out a little and make him feel like he was a better person.
Most nights, Tanner needed help getting regulated to go to sleep. Despite the two-year age difference between him and Penny, with Tanner being four and Penny two, it felt as though Penny was ahead of him in that department and she was in that Terrible Twos stage, so it basically gave you an idea of how Tanner was. So, like, yeah, some nights Frank or Abby would hold Tanner in their lap for twenty minutes to get him to settle down, because he needed someone to anchor him. During that time whoever was holding him would speak quietly to him, either reading a story (what Abby would do) or just talking to him in soft tones about his day (what Frank would do, that he would have to censor in order to make it kid-friendly due to the grotesque nature of the hospital... and a few other things).
Anyway, it was Frank's turn. He especially understood it; the restlessness, being unable to sleep, needing something to calm him down. So they were in midst of planning a wind-down routine for Tanner. Running him a warm bath. Dimming the lights a little twenty minutes before his bedtime while Frank or Abby would sit with him. Abby had mentioned getting him one of the weighted blankets that should come next week. Like, both of them knew that Tanner had inherited Frank's ADHD, even though he was four, because none of the people they fucking knew had this much trouble getting their kid to sleep.
"I'm glad you're off from work tomorrow," Abby told Frank softly after both Tanner and Penny were asleep. Frank was glad too, he couldn't wait to go on this bender, and he had enough self discipline to not snort the shit in front of her. "You know I'm going out to the bridal shower tomorrow right? So you'll be with the kids."
That'd be fine, Frank knew he needed more time with the kids anyway. Too many long shifts in the ED barely gave him any time, and he nearly missed Penny's first steps because of it, and had Tanner not been born in the PTMC he probably would've missed his first child's birth.
"Have fun," Frank said.
I love you, she had whispered before going to sleep, and Frank went to bed... joyful and not a little guilty. The pills in his bag that he'd spent all that money on that could've gone to his student loans went to that, and despite this, Frank couldn't be happier.
(Sparrow)
It was the fourth day of September on Frank's day off, and he woke up at five in the morning anyway, except at this time, it was out of pure excitement because he had his day off, had gotten a shit ton of pills and he was thrilled to take some. Despite his Adderall prescription being refilled, Frank conveniently forgot to take it that morning. Because, you know, he had spent over three hundred dollars off shit from the street and he wasn't going to waste it. Like, it should be fine. Probably.
Frank decided not to inhale it, opting to ingest it this time because he wanted to wait a little for it to kick in. It was the first time all week he'd been able to have a hit in the mornings, which was such a relief, because the Adderall just didn't cut it. But then Frank realized that by 7AM he could barely move due to the amount he took (the kids were going to be up soon and so was Abby to leave for the bridal shower) and Frank knew he needed to sober up a little because he wasn't used to taking Xanax in the mornings, so he actually snorted his Adderall to 'perk up.' But the Adderall wasn't hitting fast enough, so Frank took tums to 'enhance the effect.'
Abby's friend picked her up at 7:30AM, leaving Frank alone with the kids.
Frank decided to power clean the house because he felt like he had the star power-up from Mario right now. It was spotless for someone whose hands wouldn't stop shaking. And you know what, you know what'd be absolutely great right now? A dog. He should get the kids a dog, right after he would spring clean the house (it was September.) Frank managed to make breakfast for the kids (Cereal. Simple enough) and got them dressed.
Tanner said while Frank helped him that daddy had "lots of different parts" and this morning was "Hyper Daddy" because normally his kids saw him after work he'd take benzos and was "Quiet Daddy" usually. So okay, Frank had to chill out a little to bring this down. Though Frank was diagnosed with ADHD and some would say the Adderall should calm him down - but not when he was snorting it. He wasn't aware of the benzos bag getting lighter and lighter as the day went on. Frank was still pretty excited though, and told his kids to get in the car because he had a surprise for them. He told them to put their hands over their eyes as Frank drove to the pet store.
So Frank spent around two thousand dollars within twenty-four hours, because the drugs cost around three hundred and the labradoodle puppy cost around eight hundred - not including the things the puppy would need like food, a dog house, etc,. But it's not like Frank put much thought of it, only that Abby loved dogs and so did the kids and they'd always wanted one and Tanner would beg them every single day for one and Frank felt amazing right now.
When they got home, Frank realized that hey, he had some free time and he still had some Xanax left, so why not use it. Abby got home later and saw the dog... and just stared at it for thirty seconds.
She didn't seem happy.
"Frank," Abby began, her voice sounding weird. "Why is there a puppy in the kitchen?"
He grinned. "A gift. The kids named him Rover."
Silence.
Abby let out a sharp breath. "I leave you alone with the kids for one day, and suddenly we have a new pet."
Was she angry with him? Frank tried to explain further, "I thought it'd be nice. It'd be nice to have a family pet, the Langdon mascot, so to speak."
"Frank, I'm being stretched too thin with Tanner and Penny," sighed Abby. "The last thing we need is another thing to take care of. I mean, you couldn't even keep a plant alive if you wanted to. We tried that, remember? A dog is another responsibility-"
"Tanner promised that he'd take care of it."
Abby glared. "Tanner doesn't remember to brush his teeth. Tanner will run off unless one of us holds his hand." Right, because Frank once suggested they got one of those child leashes and Abby had been vehemently against it, screaming at him for it, so yeah one of them had to hold his hand. "And you think he can take care of a dog. No, it's going to be me that takes care of the dog. I'll clean up after it, walk it, feed it, and so on. Christ, Frank, you don't think."
"Abby-"
"Just leave it, it's fine I'm fine," Abby said, evidently not being fine. "You've been with the kids all day, I can- I can get them ready for bedtime later."
The guilt that consumed Frank was absolutely awful. So he told his wife he was going for a walk outside and finished the rest of the Xanax in his car (not fully aware that it was the rest) and came home immediately. Abby asked him what he wanted for dinner, but he lied and said anything she cooked was fine, so she fucking got the crockpot again and Frank wished he could take it back.
(The Sound of Silence)
Before bed, Frank wanted one last bit of the Xanax.
But there was none left.
Panic enveloped his entire being as he scrambled through his bookbag for any pills that he might've missed. He checked the bathroom, checked his kids' rooms, checked the kitchen and his bedroom, and when Abby asked him what he was looking for Frank kind of told her to fuck off because his heart was racing and where the hell was it.
"Frank, you're starting to scare me."
"I lost it. I lost the... the... remote."
Abby blinked. "And that's what has you sweating? Maybe you should take off tomorrow. You seem really upset. Honey I'm not mad that you got the dog, I'm mad that you didn't consult with me first-"
"You just don't appreciate anything I do, right?" Frank snapped without thinking. There were no pills left. He took too much. He hadn't even realized. "Right. When I get a dog which is something you always wanted, it's foul, it's not right, but when you order this Little Mermaid themed bath-set for Penny, it's totally fine, even though you could hand the kid a paper cup and tell her to use her imagination."
"Frank," interjected Abby, irritated. "A dog is another thing to take care of. It's not even comparable to a bath-set."
"I wanted to do something nice."
His dealer was still in Ohio.
He couldn't go back to Ohio when he had to be at work tomorrow, and he couldn't be late, because they were getting new interns and med students and Frank as a senior resident needed to be on his A-game.
Abby eyed him wearily. "You're starting to act like my sister does when she forgets to take her lithium. I mean, the frivolous spending, the-"
"Bipolar runs on your side of the family, not mine."
"Frank. Are you skipping your Adderall again?"
Frank laughed out loud at that. "You know, Abs, it's really fucking funny you say that. I take the Adderall, you still bitch about it, because it messes with my appetite and I'm not hungry as often which is a side effect, but when I don't take it - it's still a problem. There's no winning with you, and it's getting fucking ridiculous."
"Where is this coming from?" Abby demanded.
Frank checked the nightstand for the seventh time. He slammed the drawer harder than usual. "I mean that's what this really is about, you're trying to psychoanalyze me, you've always done that shit and I hated it, but the second I bring up your fucking problems then the world is ending. So, yeah, I'm irritated about it!"
"What's happening?" Abby shouted back desperately, because they'd fought before, it was always intense, but this was more intense than usual, and Frank knew that he was fucked, that he had to think of something quick, and- "Because this past week you've been acting off, hell these past few months, is it your back, we can get you prescribed those pain meds again, we could-"
"My back is fine."
"Really, and you're fine?" snapped Abby. "You're going to stand there and tell me that you're fine, rummaging through the entire house at ten at night when you should be sleeping because you have work tomorrow, this points to something else, Frank, I'm not that stupid, even though you'd probably fucking say otherwise- you've always undermined me before-"
"I have never-"
"You have."
"Bullshit."
"Oh shut up."
It was quiet. Frank had hoped that his kids didn't hear the shouting, but it occured to Frank that he didn't care, he was just so angry... his wife was asking more questions, people at work were asking more questions, he had to go into work tomorrow to train the new students, he had no pills left, he knew what he needed to do-
"I... picked up vaping," Frank admitted, trying his best to look very solemn. Abby stared at him, like she didn't believe it. "I know it's a bad habit. I know it's not good for me, and it's not better than smoking cigarettes. But I've been stressed with work lately, and I'm sorry I snapped. I just can't find it."
"You're... vaping," said Abby, just to be clear. Frank nodded, avoiding her eyes. "That's what has you upset." Frank could do without that judgement in her tone, because Abby back in college smoked Virginia Slims and had an affinity for mushrooms, so really she shouldn't fucking talk.
But Frank was tired. He didn't want to argue. "Yes. I'm sorry. I just- I just need to quit... the vaping."
Abby's voice was sympathetic, the anger seemed to melt away from her. "Oh baby, I'm sorry. I should've known how stressed you were over work. I didn't mean to yell- I... like the dog, actually. He's very cute."
Frank was the worst fucking person on the planet. But he couldn't tell her. No, he couldn't tell her about this. So the lie (that wasn't a lie, technically, he should stop vaping) pressed onto him and Abby's arms around him didn't make him feel much better. He knew what he had to do when he went to work tomorrow, to do what he did before when he found out his dealer had gone in Ohio, and it made him sick.
(The Times They Are A-Changing)
It was the fifth of September, and they were getting new interns and med students today at the Pitt. Frank woke up when his alarm went off, it was probably the first time this had happened in a while. Frank Langdon, felt like shit, but also a weird, odd excitement - because at least at work, he could try to get something again. He couldn't drive out to Ohio tonight because he had a shift Saturday in the morning, so yeah, he had to find a patient that he could take meds from. Well, at least he knew that it wouldn't be tampered with (the threat of fentanyl rising, you know how it is) but it wasn't like Frank honestly gave a shit about that risk either.
Frank got to the Pitt. He saw all the new faces. He glanced over as they each introduced themselves. Whitaker, Santos, Javadi, and an R2 by the name of Melissa King. But everyone called her Mel, and she was just so excited to be there. She was a cute one, and Frank started staring at her more than he normally would.
The withdrawals were setting in, but Frank felt this sense of clarity washing over him. He'd find pills here. Louie Cloverfield was admitted today, and he'd get prescribed benzos (Librium, if he remembered correctly, which he did) that he'd never take because he didn't care, and it felt perfect, for a moment.
Everything felt normal. More than normal. Good, actually. This was the best morning he had all week; no throwing up, no nausea (well a little, but not as extreme) no shaking, the red bull kind of helped him out ironically enough. He'd been able to eat that morning, a granola bar, better than nothing. And it was all because he knew what was waiting for him once Louie Cloverfield got the meds - or when Frank got the meds. It was such a relief that this week was finally turning around in his favor.
Frank Langdon was going to have a good day.