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The waiting room had finally started to thin out.
Unfortunately for Mel King, this mild miracle only started about eleven and a half hours into her twelve hour shift.
The waiting room still wasn't empty. It was never empty, in fact, the idea of that alone stressed Mel out far more than a full one ever could.
Mel was charting at the nurses' station when the shouting started echoing down the narrow halls.
Again.
It was the same family she had spent the last hour updating. The same adult son--probably somewhere in his forties, but the shape of his glasses frames made Mel question if he was younger--who had interrupted every explanation, every questions, and every attempt to help. All while talking down to Mel.
"You people don't care!"
Mel stopped typing and sighed. She leaned forward a little on her stool, careful to keep the wheels from squeaking.
She craned her neck as the man jabbed a finger towards the trauma bay. "My mother has been sitting here for hours." The anger he said it with almost fooled Mel into thinking she was being a bad doctor. She forced a deep breath through her nose.
"Sir," Dana began, only to be promptly cut off.
"No, don't 'sir' me." The man snarled, stepping forward, probably to yell at one of the staff again.
Mel stood before she consciously decided to. She knew Dana could take care of herself, probably better care than Mel had ever received, but her feet were pulling her to the patients son before she could stop herself. "Your mother was seen forty minutes after arrival," she said softly to the man, watching carefully as he redirected his frustration at her.
"What?"
"She had labs." Mel added, matter of fact. "Imaging. Two physician evaluations."
The room felt quiet and Mel's back prickled as he felt the stares lasered on her from the nurses table. Dana stayed glued to her left, just in case the man decided to act up.
Mel, however, kept going as this newfound confidence fueled her. "She's receiving care. We haven't forgotten about your mother, and no one will as long as she's here."
"Are you accusing me making this shit up?" The man snapped, and Mel noticed the way Dana started to reach forward in her peripheral. "We've been here for four hours--"
"So have a lot of others." Mel responded, her tone firmer than it ever had been while dealing with someone this blatantly rude. "You keep yelling at staff every time someone walks by. No one is ignoring your mother."
The man's face reddened. "I have every right to be yelling when these workers are acting like incompetent little s--"
"No!" The word cracked through the waiting room and Mel felt anxiety curl around her heart as several heads turned to look at her. She never got this much attention unless she was doing something awkward, and she had the sneaking suspicion that wasn't the reason people were looking. "No, you don't." She repeated.
Dana was staring, eyebrows raised and smile curled in something that looked like pride.
Whitaker lowered his cup of coffee somewhere in the background while Javadi stared mouth-open next to him.
Mel stepped forward. "Your mother is scared. You are too. I understand that." Her voice shook slightly. "But every nurse you've spoken to, including me as your mother's doctor, has tried to help you and you've treated them poorly."
The silence stretched uncomfortably. The man's mouth opened.
Closed.
Opened again.
Finally he muttered something under his breath and sat down.
Nobody spoke. Mel turned around and walked away before she could truly see anyone's reaction.
---
The supply room door slammed harder than she'd intended.
Mel leaned against a shelf of saline as she sucked in a shaky breath.
Her hands were trembling.
Great.
Perfect.
Now she'd become one of those doctors who lost their temper in front of their patients.
A few seconds later the door opened and Mel stiffened, straightening up in a desperate attempt to act like she had simply been checking inventory. "If you leave I'll get you whatever you need," she said quickly, a hopeless endeavor to get whoever was in there with her out.
The door clicked shut.
Not leaving.
Of course.
She looked up and was surprised to see Langdon standing there.
He smiled, half a dimple flashing into view as he leaned against the door, trapping her inside. "You're hiding in my favorite room."
Mel folded her arms, hoping she didn't look as awful and unprofessional as she felt. "I'm not hiding. I was seeing if we needed more saline bags."
"You slammed the door," He added, tone teasing.
She waved her hand, "I closed it firmly."
His eyebrows raised in that purely sardonic Frank Langdon kind of way. "Violently firmly, maybe."
If this had been a conversation a few months ago, when Mel hadn't known him as well, she would've taken that badly. But now, weeks of knowing Langdon better than she ever had, it made the corners of her mouth twitch.
Frank settles against the opposite wall, still looking down at her. She knew he was trying to get a read on her, and normally she'd just talk, but right now she was far too embarrassed.
So neither of them spoke and the silence stretched. Normally Mel liked the silence and Langdon never bothered to fill it because it was comfortable between the two of them.
Today it felt heavy, though.
Finally Langdon leveled his gaze with hers. "You okay, King?"
"I'm fine."
"Uh-huh," He nodded but it was clear he didn't believe her.
"I am," she insisted, but even to herself it felt weak.
"Sure." He leaned a little closer to her.
Mel stared at a box of IV tubing. "I yelled at a patient's family member."
"I heard." He said, softer now.
"I shouldn't have." Mel shook her head, taking her glasses off so she could properly run a hand down her face.
Langdon shrugged. "Maybe."
She looked up at him. Well, the blurry blob of him since her glasses were still in her hand. "Maybe?"
"The guy was being an ass."
A startled laugh escaped her and Langdon's smile widened in return.
"There she is."
The smile vanished almost immediately. Mel looked down again. "I was angry."
"Yeah."
"I don't get angry like that."
"You don't."
His answer came quickly. Langdon had noticed. Of course he'd noticed.
He seemed to notice everything about her lately. It was equal parts overwhelming and comforting.
Mel swallowed. "I just--" The words caught and her voice broke unexpectedly.
Langdon's expression changed to something so much more tender. More attentive. "What, Mel?"
Mel hated that question. Mostly because he sounded like he actually wanted the answer, and normally when people asked her they left before she could answer.
She stared at the floor. "Everybody and everything has been awful today. Which it is normally, but something today . . ."
Langdon waited.
"The overdose in four." She whispered. "The little kid with the seizure. The woman who kept apologizing for calling 911 because she thought she was wasting our time." She inhaled a tearful breath. "And then that guy just kept yelling."
The room was quiet.
Mel blinked rapidly.
This was so humiliating.
She wasn't going to cry. Not over this.
Langdon looked at her for a long then he nodded once. "Yeah."
That was it. He didn't give her a speech or a lecture, just his understanding that people were shitty and the things that happened to them were even shittier.
Somehow that made it worse. Her eyes burned and one repulsive tear rolled down her face.
"Damn it," Langdon reached behind her, into the depths of a shelf and pulled out a . . . box of tissues?
He pulled one out and held it to her.
Mel stared at him. "You keep tissues in here?"
He gave her half of a grin. "I've worked in an ER for five years."
She nodded and took one. "Fair."
When she dabbed under her eyes, Langdon politely looked away. Which somehow felt kinder than pretending not to notice.
After a minute, she quietly said, "I don't like losing control." Langdon laughed softly and it made her look up. "What?"
"Mel."
"What?" She repeated, anxious that maybe she had this all wrong and he was judging her.
"You raised your voice once."
"Still. It's unprofessional." She mumbled, looking away again."
"It happens." He argued, tone a weird mix of gentle and firm. "It's not like you threw a chair."
She gave him wide-eyed, appalled stare that made him chuckle under his breath. "I wasn't going to throw a chair."
He crossed his arms, leaning his back against the door as he smiled down at her in these close quarters. "I didn't think so. I'm just saying the bar for losing control in this place is considerably higher. Take me for example."
She knew he was kidding and it was the only reason she didn't rush in to say every good thought she ever had about him. A reluctant smile appeared and Langdon looked pleased with himself, which was somehow annoying and comforting.
The tension in her shoulders eased for the first time all day.
The muffed sounds of the ER filtered through the door.
Monitors, phones, voices.
Life continuing.
Eventually, Frank pushed away fro the wall. "We should probably go back out there."
Mel sighed. "Probably."
He reached for the door. Paused. "Hey."
She looked up.
Langdon's expression was unusually serious. "You were right, by the way."
"About what?"
"The guy. How you reacted. And I can almost guarantee it, Mel, that when we go back out there, no one will be saying anything about you 'losing control'. They'll be talking about how good of a doctor you are."
Mel swallowed. She wasn't used to receiving compliments that sounded genuine rather than surprised. "Thank you."
"And if it helps at all, he totally deserved it. I would still be on your side if you had slapped him."
The corner of her mouth lifted. Then his did too.
And for a second, neither of them looked away.
The moment lasted just a little too long.
Just long enough for both of them noticed.
Langdon cleared his throat. "Anyway."
Mel's head dipped. "Anyway."
He opened the door and they stepped back into the noise together.