Work Text:
lending a hand
Mel's never been one for touch.
Growing up, it had always been uncomfortable. She remembers when she was small, back when her mother and father were still alive, when relatives whose names Mel couldn't remember would come up during the holidays and ask for a hug. Becca wouldn't stand for it, which was understandable for obvious reasons, but it was a little different thing with Mel, who had been deemed 'normal,' so she'd just grin (barely) and bear it (also barely). It was their father that had picked up on Mel's discomfort, and would flat out tell relatives that Mel wasn't too keen on hugs, and to quote, 'back the fuck off,' something that Mel had always been grateful for.
But her father died when she was a week away from turning twelve, from a car crash in a terrible snowstorm on his one day off from work, and had tried to get birthday presents for Mel and Becca's birthday. For the next six years, Mel had to deal with relatives forcing her into hugs. So when her mother died from an aggressive tumor, Mel (guiltily) thought that at least she wouldn't have to deal with that anymore. But that came with another price, which was becoming Becca's full time caregiver.
Her sister was a different story. Mel liked it when Becca hugged her, had a held her hand, just like when they were small, when she wanted to drag her to show her something important on television - which was of course a Disney cartoon. Which Mel thought was absolutely appropriate. Becca was her twin sister and her best friend, and Mel never had a friend that was outside of her own family, so touch from her sister was expected. When Mel got to the Pitt, she was relieved that people weren't so handsy with each other (at least, from what she'd seen) a high-five was acceptable, brief and to the point, but anything beyond that from others made her uneasy.
That was until Frank Langdon came into the picture.
Mel didn't know what it was exactly about Frank that drew her to him at first. Nor could she fathom why Frank was drawn to her. They'd just clicked on the first day, like magnets, though she rejected this common comparison. Magnets obeyed predictable laws of physics. There was nothing predictable about Frank Langdon appearing in her life and somehow becoming one of the people she wanted to spend the most time with. So when he was gone for ten months, it'd left her with another strange metaphor she never really grasped; like there was a hole in her life without him being there. Mel had never been one for metaphors. But Frank was an exception.
He comes back on the 4th of July. A lot of things happened in that shift. Mel's disposition being one thing. Becca coming in and revealing to having a boyfriend being another. Then at the end of the shift Frank asks her to watch the fireworks with him, something she happily accepts, and all of a sudden while she's waiting for Frank there's a fight between Robby and Frank outside the hospital, one thing leads to another, and Frank punches him in the face.
And Mel doesn't know why she did it. She, logically, knows she doesn't even know him for a full day - but she sees Robby fight back against Frank and something inside of her snaps, and before any reasoning and logic can properly catch up to her, she throws herself between too grown men who are actively trying to hit each other. Mel gets shoved accidentally by Robby, and Frank goes ham on him. But Mel is left wondering why she had risked touch, something she dislikes, for the sake of Frank.
Robby attempts suicide not too long after, something Mel knows Frank blames himself for, and will continue to tell him that it isn't his fault, no matter how long it takes. Mel and Frank get to know each other a little better within the next few months, and she remembers a lot of things about him. He's going through a divorce (something that's exposed during Robby's intervention... by Robby... who may or may not have exposed more things) and his concerns about his son inheriting his ADHD. He likes the Renaissance Fair (to which Mel invited him to attend, it made her giddy that he accepted it).
And during those past few months, Mel wondered - really wondered - what it would be like to hold Frank Langdon's hand. To give it a little squeeze. To restate once more, Mel's never truly had a friend other than Becca, so this is entirely new to her. Would it be inappropriate? Would it be wrong? Would she feel uncomfortable because it isn't her sister, or her parents though they've long been dead? The people she's accepted and even loved touch from?
But there's no time to ponder that thought because there's a mass casualty event that happens in September 2026 that makes Pittfest look like a picnic and it completely catches Mel off-guard due to how personal it is. There's a bombing at a special needs high school that Becca graduated from. Mel does a good job of not letting it get to her during her shift (or at least not interfere with her work, but she does look like she's on the verge of puking... because she is) even though she's losing more patients than she's saving. That each patient is Becca until proven otherwise. With this thought, Mel knows going to lose it once she steps into her apartment. She's already planning on telling the facility that she'll be late.
Except that never comes, because when Mel's on her way out a man stops her in the waiting room to bother her about his hand. A non-emergency situation, at least in comparison, and complains he's been waiting for hours. Mel says something about the mass casualty, then the man says something so ableist and wrong, and Mel snaps at him. She's not yelling, but it's a very close thing, because there were teenagers that had their own personalities, their own identities, their own dreams and hopes for a future that would never come.
Mel stalks away and heads to the break room that's thankfully not occupied, and slides down the wall, and she doesn't know how long she's sitting there for. Time doesn't feel linear anymore. She feels very far away, like her brain and her body aren't connected with each other anymore, which is of course ridiculous because the brain and body are heavily connected but it doesn't make sense. Nothing makes sense right now. She blinks once and suddenly Frank Langdon is sitting cross legged in front of her and the lights are shut off.
When Frank calls her name, something that usually brings her great comfort, this time it makes everything of this nightmarish shift rush back and Mel can't handle it. She's faintly aware of the low, steady, gentle tone coming from Frank that normally makes her feel warm but Mel's words are tumbling out of her mouth in panicked fragments. She's hyperventilating at this point, she's sure of it, and he's probably a little freaked out by her but then Frank says something strange that makes her stop gasping for air.
"I'm putting my hand out. Can you look at it?"
What.
Mel stammers a response, and Frank hushes her softly. And that... calms her down only a bit. It's not meant to shut her up, Mel knows this. It's the white noise serving as a background while being given time to process. Frank calmly repeats what's being asked of her.
"When you're ready, you can look at my hand."
She doesn't have an expected time frame, which is good. Frank said when she's ready. Mel doesn't know how long it takes but – eventually – Mel's eyes land on Frank's right hand. Her breathing isn't terribly different, but enough that she doesn't feel like she has to strain as much anymore to stare at Frank's hand - where she wonders - should she touch it? Or is that too much for her right now?
After little time passes, Frank tells her they're going to play a game with his hand, but the game is heavily narrated, which is good, because there's no sudden surprises. He tells her when he's putting a finger out, and she follows it, and is asked which finger it is and she gets them all correct and her ears aren't ringing as much anymore. She removes her hands that have been covering her ears.
She's apologizing to him, profusely, for seeing her like this and Frank won't let her apologize. That he's not "dealing with her" as she put it, that he's glad that she trusts him to be with her in this moment (even if, technically, it's Trinity who found her and went to get Frank knowing he was the right person for this. And he absolutely was).
Still. She calls him a saint for that anyway. Frank gets this look in his eyes after she says that, a sight that pains Mel, that he looks so shocked someone would compare him to something good. But Frank is sweet. Frank is kind. Frank is gentle.
Frank Langdon is just wonderful.
"I'm not a saint," Frank says, and there's humor in it now, soft and a little embarrassed. "I'm just- I care about you. You're a person I care a great deal about."
Care. Mel can't remember the last time she's been cared for. She sits with that, staring at him, trying to process that.
Then Frank holds both his hands out. "You can just look at them, or look at me, look at the floor, or... whatever you think feels right."
The permission does something important. Mel's gaze stays on Frank's hands at first. Stable. Familiar now. An anchor. Something for Mel to focus on. Mel makes her choice. Slowly, she shifts - her hands are moving before she really decides to, and reaches toward his, then her fingers close around his hands gently.
There's a moment - Mel thinks - that holding Frank Langdon's hands shouldn't feel this comfortable.
She doesn't normally make that decision with touch. She isn't the one that initiates it. But she's here, touching Frank's hands, and he is letting it happen. And she finds that this is exactly what she needed. She wonders when she'll pull away, eventually getting uncomfortable because she normally doesn't do touch. Not long like this.
But she doesn't. Not for a while. And she wonders if he'll pull away. But he doesn't. And it makes her feel better that he isn't. She feels her thumbs against Frank's knuckles - and Frank isn't saying anything. His hands are in hers. Or is it her hands in his? But the distinction feels irrelevant. Her brain is latching onto something simple, which happens to be Frank's hands, the same hands she's seen work well in his profession; quick and precise. They are also the same hands she's seen at the Renaissance Fair, where he wiped Tanner and Penny's mouths from eating fried dough, where he ruffled Tanner's hair, and bopped Penny's nose.
They're like that for forty-seven seconds. She's sure that Frank isn't counting, but she is. She doesn't know why she's counting though. Maybe it's because counting is easier than thinking about why she's so comfortable. She notices the way her breathing has finally started to settle. She notices how Frank hasn't tried to pull her out of this spell even once. She notices how he's gone... kind of quiet, but she doesn't think it's a bad thing.
Then she pulls away, and finally looks at him. He looks a bit... dazed. She thanks him for his help, but she's worried, because he's been sitting here for god knows how long and asks if his back is okay. But Frank waves it off and says he's fine, but Mel isn't so sure. She talks about what happened in the waiting room. And as she's recounting this horrible memory to Frank, she sees it in his face for only a brief second, the anger that he feels toward the man in the waiting room which is similar to how he felt when Mel had been shoved on the 4th of July. He takes a long deep breath, and his fury is diminished.
"Mel, you know he's wrong, your neurodivergency is one of the most beautiful things about you."
Mel doesn't hear anything else after that. Only that the words beautiful and Mel are used in the same sentence and she doesn't know what to do with this information. It's another thing that enters her brain; that it shouldn't make her feel so comfortable, but Frank Langdon, Mel is learning, is good at doing that.
(It's weird, but not in a bad way. Frank just has a certain way about him that she can't quite put her finger on, and maybe it means something important, maybe not. She does know this though: she likes her hands touching Frank's. She likes that he says what's on his mind, that he's brash and straightforward with some things, and how he sometimes thinks he's being a bit much so he tones down a little, for her sake. But she doesn't mind it. She should mind it, but Frank is the exception. Frank Langdon, Mel is also learning, is starting to become her exception on quite a number of things).
They exit the break room, but Frank stays behind to address Trinity while Mel goes out to the parking lot, after Frank said he'd drive her home. Mel does a lot of thinking over this; her meltdown in the break room, Frank being there, Frank grounding her, then Mel reaching out to touch Frank's hands. And she knows, she knows that if anyone else were to do that, she'd probably withdraw further from them, and the fact that she doesn't from Frank, that's something worth examining. But Mel has never been good at identifying her own emotions, it's always been a struggle and she doesn't expect to get much better as the years go on.
Frank eventually meets her in the parking lot. He initiates the touch this time, holding her hand, before getting into his car. He gives it a little squeeze, and tells her she's okay. Mel looks up, she's figured that because it was sudden and initiated by someone else, it should make her uncomfortable.
It does not.
There is probably a reason why touching Frank's hands don't bother her. There is, coincidentally, probably also a reason why Mel is not only not bothered by touching Frank's hands, but very comfortable around him. Just like there's a reason why she'd gotten between Robby and Frank that day on July 4th, that she just couldn't bear to see Frank get hurt and tried to save him before she knew what she was doing. That Frank's face is the first one she tries to find in the ED, that she hopes she'll get a text message from him that makes her smile, that she always looks forward to his jokes, that things felt quiet and steady and warm whenever she's around him, that she looks for him when something good or something bad happens, or if she just wanted to share something simple with him.
There is probably a reason all of this felt different, with Frank Langdon.
(There is. But she couldn't name it).
(Not yet).