Archive of Our Own

All Frank wanted was a smoke break.

It would be five, maybe ten minutes tops. Add on another ten if he got jittery and had to run around the parking lot to let off some energy.

So at max twenty minutes. Which can be a lifetime in the ED, but it's already been a lifetime of a shift. Langdon felt like his feet were scrapping against the floor as he hit hour ten. A cigarette would give him what he needed for the next two hours. Plus however long he stays after that, because he doesn’t go home, not until he was shaking on his feet and his eyes were refusing to work.

Home was a single bedroom apartment four blocks from the hospital. No elevator, windows facing the wall of another apartment building. His furniture came from his parents' storage unit, the mattress was older than him.

Home should be the three hours a week Abby lets him see the kids. But nothing feels like home when a social worker is watching the whole interaction. Abby would apologize, remind him it's a part of his program, not the divorce agreement. Because Abby was kind, she was caring, she found him a rehab and they figured out the bills and once he was good, good enough to leave rehab, she helped find him an apartment. So Frank didn’t fight when she brought up the idea of a divorce. Instead the two hugged and he apologized and they cried. She said they’d eventually have dual custody, after he’d completed his three year program. Frank took what he got and dreamed at night about the days that would be better and not the ones he used to live.

“I’ll be in the ambulance bay for a bit.” Frank said as he waltzed past Dana.

“That’s a nasty habit!” Dana shouted after him.

“Not the worst one I’ve picked.” Frank turned his head, smirking.

She shook her head, but Frank could see her smiling.

Once he passed the automatic door of the ambulance bay, he pulled the pack of Old Gold Lights from his scrub pocket. He noted he was half empty, which meant he’d need to go to the gas station in four days, five max. Depending on how stressful the rest of the week was. He was trying to keep it to a pack a week. He knew if he smoked anymore, the chances of cancer, heart disease and so on basically doubled.

Frank stood a couple feet from the entrance, near where the ambulances entered. He could see the whole of the parking lot, he would notice if anyone needed assistance. At least then he wouldn’t be missing for his own triage work, just anything that the students wanted his assistance on.

Which has become often. When Robby was on sabbatical, Langdon became one of the longest running members of the Pitt, even including his six month absences. If Al Hashimi was busy, then Langdon was the next obvious choice.

Soon it became more than just asking for assistance or help with the job. Out of nowhere one day Whitaker asked to have lunch, as much of a lunch break as they were given. They sat in silence for most of the ten minute break they had. Until Langdon brought up Dennis killing the rat on his first day.

“I thought about that all the time in rehab. It was something funny, and made some days easier.” Frank said. “My roommates never believed me!”

“I have even crazier stories about living on the farm.” Dennis said.

“I’d like to hear those.” Frank laughed.

And soon whenever the two had overlapping shifts, Dennis would recall something from his childhood and Frank would be brought to tears from laughter. It's also where Frank learned that Dennis’s own dad had struggled with a pain medication addiction after he’d broken his collarbone while falling off of a tractor. Frank said he’d always be here if Dennis needed to talk about it. Frank squeezed the younger guy's shoulder, reminding him, everyone hurts with addiction, not just those addicted. Dennis nodded, scrubbing at his eyes, thanking him.

It wasn’t just Whitaker, but all the med students. He didn’t even know he was a background star for half of Javadi’s tiktoks until he got sent a screenshot from Abby asking him when he’d become ER Ken to the whole world and not just the The Pitt. He laughed, downloaded tiktok and spent a good couple hours looking for himself in Javadi’s videos.

“Why are people calling me ‘doctor daddy’ in your comments?” Frank asked her one day.

“I can’t control them!” Javadi squirmed, heat rising to her cheeks.

“You know you could’ve just asked me to be a part of them instead of sneakily filming me.” Frank said.

“I have not– wait…you want to be in my videos?”

“It could be fun. I’m not much of a dancer though.”

She smiled at him, brightly. Now on random shifts Javadi would come to him with ideas for videos, try to teach him dances at times, or instruct him on the parts he needed to lip sync. They were fun to film, and it often got the rest of the med students watching while trying to hold in their laughter at Frank.

Then there is Mel, who’s always been on his side. He doesn’t understand what Mel saw in him on her first day. But she was open to him on his return. Was his rock when the rest of the ED didn’t want him around. The two of them were joined at the hip for most of her work, and when he reflects, he wonders if this is how he looked with Robby. He probably had a bit too much confidence while Mel didn’t have enough. And he swore to god he would never put the pressure on Mel that he’d felt his whole life. Mel was sensitive. She was caring. She was everything the ED needed and Frank would make sure she knew how special she was.

Words of encouragement was his go to. Mel would brighten from a simple complement. She would beam when Frank had her present or practice. When she asked questions, he encouraged her to keep asking more, curiosity was necessary to the role.

Mel also taught him stuff, better bed side manners for one. But she was also steady in a way that Frank had never experienced. He was like a dog waiting for its walk, jumping all over the place, searching and begging for someone to notice him, notice he wanted something. He was chaotic, a storm waiting to blow over. So when he saw her calm demeanor, he realized he didn’t have to rush, he could breathe.

And when Mel mentioned she was moving, Frank gathered up the rest of the med students and made sure they were all there to help.

“You didn’t have to do this for me. I don’t have much to move.” Mel said.

She was twisting her hands in her lap, watching as Santo instructed Dennis to use his legs and not his back to lift the couch.

“This is what friends do for each other.” Frank said.

“So we’re friends?” Mel said.

And that was the moment Frank realized that the med students stopped just being students and started being his support system. As much as they looked up to him, he looked up to them.

“I care about you kids.” Frank huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“We care about you.” Mel said.

His heart beat a bit uneven in his chest. He knew that feeling, that good feeling. The feeling that he matters, that what he does is important. He hadn’t felt that often since rehab. He pushed it away, driving the thoughts away that things were gonna be good soon. He couldn’t get his hopes up.

“I guess we should help. Can’t have them doing all the fun stuff.” Frank said.

“Nope, not you, not with that back.” Mel said. “You’re driving the U-Haul.”

Frank called Dana that night, anxiety ripping through his body.

“I’ve crossed a line.” Frank said.

“By being nice to them?” Dana said.

“Robby would say I’m blurring the line of authority or workplace boundaries or something.”

“Robby’s not here.” Dana said. “Frank, he expects more out of others than he does himself. He dated Collins, you were basically his best friend for years, he’s having Dennis watch his house. And that was happening when he was your Attending.”

Dana could often settle anything within Frank. She was steady. She was logical. She was motherly. She was everything he needed from his own mother but never got.

“Thank you.” Frank said.

“I’m proud of you.” Dana said. “Not a lot of people could do what you did and come out the other end. And now…Frank, you mean the world to those kids.”

“I’m trying.” Frank said, his throat becoming tight with emotion.

“Keep calling me if you need me.”

“I will.”

The one who held out the longest was Santos and Frank couldn’t blame her. He would understand if she hated him until the day he died and beyond that. He’d apologized endlessly about her first day. Which she seemed to always brush off. Mel told him to be patient, Santos is rough around the edges, but that's because she cares. And Whitaker told him to be persistent, he would eventually wear her down.

Nights out have been awkward, stilted, due to the tension between the two of them. Even at work it felt like Frank was walking on eggshells. Though she would accept any teaching opportunity, it often came with a lot of blunt remarks and doubts in his abilities.

He didn’t blame her. She should treat him this way. Everyone really should.

Frank spent a large portion of rehab resenting Santos. If she hadn’t been nosey, if she hadn’t been observant, if she’d minded her own business like everyone else in that the ED had done for a year, he wouldn’t be here.

But around his last week in rehab, it dawned on him that he’s thankful for her. He was sick, is still sick, will always be an addict even if he never takes a pill again. He needed help even though he didn’t know it then. He was out of control and desperate and willing to do almost anything to get the fix his body craved. This wasn’t sustainable, he was weak and broken and on the verge of collapse. If Santos hadn’t discovered the discrepancies in his benzodiazepines, he might not have made it to today. He might have overdosed, or done something even worse than make Santos' first day in the ER the worst day of her career. He’ll wake in the middle of the night, horrors playing in his mind of who he could’ve hurt. What he could’ve done to Abby or the kids or what they could’ve seen if he’d overdosed at home.

The only reason he was better now was because of her. He owed Santos his life.

But he couldn’t offer her anything that would show her how much he appreciated her now.

At least he could try.

“Trin-” Santos glared.

“Sorry, Dr. Santos…can we chat?” Frank said.

She looked down at her tablet, eyes darting across the screen, looking for a reason to get out of the conversation. She sighed, putting the tablet on the desk in front of her.

“You have five minutes.” Santos said.

“Thank you!” Frank beamed.

He fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a chip. Everyone had seen him fiddle with the plastic item, seeing them change color over the months from blue to yellow and now an off colored white, almost green in tone. He rubbed it between his fingers a few times before he held it out to Santos.

“In my program, it was recommended I find a reason why I made it to my goals. My 30 day chip I gave to Abby, obviously, the next one to myself because you can’t recover unless you do it for yourself, my three month chip I shipped to Robby when he was on sabbatical. Then six months was Mel, she got me through those first couple weeks back to work. Nine months went to Dana who never lost trust in me. And finally, I’m hitting my one year and…I want you to have it.” Frank said.

Santos didn’t grab it. Her eyebrows pinched together, confusion dancing across her face. A rippling anxiety was running through his veins. Screaming at him that he fucked up, that he did it wrong, that of course why would she take your chip, she doesn’t even like you. He stamped the feeling away. In the past he’d wallow, he’d let himself get depressed, he'd get to his lowest and turn to the one thing he knew would make him feel better.

He’s grown. Frank knows he can’t always feel happy. Feeling pain, discomfort, all that is a part of life.

“I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t tell Robby. I have no right to be here.” Frank said. “But I am and I’m trying to be better everyday and I know I can’t fix what I did in the past, how I hurt you. But I want you to know I’m grateful for what you did. So I want you to have this.”

Again, Santos didn’t move. But her face had softened. She was a strong willed girl, a person full of anger and distrust and for all good reasons. Santos was someone who didn’t let people in, she had tall walls to break to enter her inner circle. But there are times you get to see her in a different light. Parts of her she doesn’t want to show people, but needs to learn how.

“You told me I ruined your marriage, you almost lost your kids because of me.” Santos whispered.

“Santos, fuck.” Frank said. “I…everything bad that has happened because of my addiction is on me. I shouldn’t have said that to you. I’m sorry.”

“First days are hard.” Santos said. “You made mine hard…and maybe I made your first day back a bit hard too.”

“Don’t apologize for that.”

“Wasn’t planning on it…just…I understand I guess. Lashing out. It's easier than…it’s easier than this.” Santos said.

She grabbed the chip out of his hand.

“It glows in the dark.” Frank said.

She laughed.

“Well thank god, I was afraid I was going to lose it when I went caving, which we all have to do at some point in life. Now I’ll find this instead of the exit.” Santos said.

After that, Santos started to let Frank call her Trinity.

He still had hard days. Today was a hard day.

Robby’s been back for a week now and he’s been requested to triage again. Shunned. Denied cases, denied teaching opportunities, denied eye contact.

Frank knew Abbot showed Robby the request to transfer to nights.

Frank was also bluntly aware that Robby hadn’t replied to a single text he’d sent the past three months. Neither did the man reach out during his long stay in rehab. It caused a churching in his stomach that made him want to vomit. Robby had ignored him, and that said more than anything. This is the feeling he’d been trying to name during all of his recovery. The exact feeling that kept Langdon from admitting to anyone that he had an issue. This was the shame that ate away at him his whole life. He didn’t want to be thrown out, he didn’t want to give anyone a reason to.

It had taken months of therapy, but Frank knew he had an issue with self worth. All his life, he’d attach himself to someone or something and they would tell him if he was worthy or not. And he’d do anything to prove he was. The idea of losing Robby, the man who saw something in Frank when others couldn’t control him, devastated him. And Robby’s reaction only proved Frank's fears. He wasn’t even worth the man’s time.

His worst fears were real and he had to face that. But not today, not at work, not when he was craving something to dull his pain.

Frank's hands shook as he pulled a cigarette out of the pack.

“One year, one month.” He mumbled, cigarette between his lips, trying to light the cigarette but failing.

It wasn’t that he thought he needed Robby’s attention, but he still wanted it. He knew Robby was a good person, he’d known a good Robby at least. He wanted that guy back. The one he met on his first day at the Pitt, the one that still had Admonson to guide him. That was a guy that was willing to face his issue, the scary parts of working in the ED, who could’ve been calm when he found the librium.

Robby had changed a lot. And now with a completely sober system, Frank could really see that. He could finally understand why Robby reacted the way he did all those months ago. The man needed help just as much as he did.

“One year, one month.” He whispered again, finally lighting the cigarette.

The smoke hit the back of his throat, floating down to his lungs. A quick rush entered his brain and left just as quickly. It stopped the shaking in his hands.

Stealing benzodiazepines was unforgivable. Frank knew that Robby never had to forgive him, and didn't ever have to look him in the eyes again. He broke his mentor…his friends' trust and put him in a horrible position. But this hurt worse than when Abby and him had their first conversation with the divorce lawyer. This was worse than his mother and father ignoring the issue all together, acting like it never happened in the first place. Frank could live with a lot of awful outcomes and he could live with Robby resenting him for the rest of their lives, but he couldn’t work like that.

Working nights with Abbot wasn’t bad. It was actually quite nice. A different pace. Large bursts of cases than odd dead spaces. It was hyperfocus to no focus and it made Frank's nervous system twitch and jump and cause Abbot to require Frank to do laps in the parking lot to let off the energy like he was a dog going on a walk. Then there is Shen who took Frank in like a lost puppy dog. They were both fourth year residents, but Shen was steadfast. While Frank would be darting around, Shen stood secure and watchful. The two were complete opposites, but when they were together, it was a perfect balance. Him and Shen had also grown a report with bickering about coffee orders and testing out new drinks. It had gotten to the point where Frank had memorized Shen’s regular order and usually brought it in during his weekly shift.

It was on the nightshift that Frank really felt like he was getting back to himself. Shen trusted him and Abbot guided him.

And it was also a nice bonus that John Shen was just Frank’s type. As a newly divorced man going through recovery, he didn’t even consider the idea of a new relationship. But it was still fun to have a crush. Which is what Mel called it and Frank denied because a 30 year old man does not have a crush.

The night crew was also full of faces that Frank didn’t know well and they seemed to rotate out more frequently than the day shift. There was something refreshing about these new people. They didn’t know him, not before rehab or before he started using. Frank was just an MS4 who’s a bit too cocky and a bit too energized. Though he knew he had to take responsibility for his actions when he was using, these night shifts gave him a moment to breathe. A reset once a week for himself.

“Hey Frank.”

His head snapped up to see a man standing a few feet from him. He was wearing an orange construction vest, a tool belt around his waist holding a variety of items, raggiedy blue jeans. The man was tall, thick build. Frank had seen him a handful of times over the past year. Brady was a staple of the NA meetings he attended. They both shared the same sponsor.

“Hey…I…doesn’t this break the rules of NA?” Frank said.

They weren’t met to visit each other outside of the meetings unless spoken ahead of time, especially not at each others work like this. If Frank had seen Brady walk through the doors of the ED, he would ask Dana to put someone else of that case. It was supposed to be that simple.

“I’m in a bad spot, man.” Brady said.

“Ok…just,” Frank drops his cigarette on the ground and stamps it out. “Let me take you to the entrance and get you on the list to be seen.”

“I need to get back to work. Can’t you just see me right now?” Brady said.

“I mean, I can expedite the process, sure. But we do need to get the paperwork filled out before you get to be examined.” Frank said. “Let’s walk to the front and you can tell me what happened.”

From just looking him over, there weren't any visible signs of an injury. Brady was also walking just fine, maybe a bit uncoordinated, but not anything Frank would be concerned about.

“Please don’t make me go through the process. They won’t-” But Brady didn’t finish his thought.

Brady was no joke of a man. He’d walk a few more feet to be facing Frank directly, the guy was almost a foot taller, made completely of muscles and tanned skin from working outside. Last week Brady mentioned working on the underpass being made a couple blocks from the hospital. Connecting dots, Frank determined he could’ve taken a tumble at work, has a concussion and is a bit out of it.

“I’ll go with you. The ladies at reception love me so you won’t have to worry about anything.” Frank said.

He was sweating a lot. Beads pooling up and running down his forehead. His hair was slick with it. It wasn’t that hot out. A chill ran down Frank’s spin, starting to actually piece together what was going on.

Brady was three months clean. Frank could remember when he was at that point. He wanted to be at work, but he knew he couldn’t and that Robby wouldn’t let him. So he was stuck at home, a ball of energy with nothing to do. He cleaned the house, sometimes several times a week, would take hours long walks around the neighborhood, even tried playing online video games. He later downloaded minecraft and became pretty obsessed with that, which Tanner loved. Mostly he just kept thinking about…everything and anything. But mostly it all came back to wanting to just feel good again. To not feel his back ache or start crying out of nowhere.

When it was really bad he would call his sponsor on the phone and they would just talk for hours. Then his sponsor would help him schedule a new therapy meeting and he’d actually deal with his shit then.

“When was the last time you saw Marcus?” Frank said.

“I um…last week?” Brady said.

“Marcus helped me a lot when I needed it.” Frank said.

“What are you accusing me of?” Brady snapped.

The lost demeanor was gone, instead replaced with seer rage. Brady was staring at him directly and Frank could see that he wasn’t just seeking drugs, he had already relapsed. That neurotic look to his eyes, that was the exact face Frank had seen in the mirror not that long ago.

“Nothing at all.” Frank put his hands up.

“You think I took something.” Brady said.

“I didn’t say that.” Frank said.

“You don’t have to.” Brady said.

“Relapse is completely normal Brady.” Frank said.

Brady’s body was vibrating, his hands constructing and releasing over and over. There was a restless energy in him, something that unnerved Frank. The ED had gotten itself a handful of drug addicts, some relapsing, some overdosing, some of them on a really bad trip. Everyone is trained on what to do in those types of situations. Frank was struggling because he knew Brady. The really nice and considerate guy he was. He knew if he could get Brady to chat with Marcus on the phone, it would calm him down, they could find a starting point, get him into a room at the hospital and start talking about next steps and what we do after we relapse. He didn’t want to treat him like a scared animal.

“Fuck you!” Brady snapped. “Frank is the golden boy, the kid that never relapses, the kid who’s doing so good by being back at work and making friends and he still talks to his wife and kids. Goddamn, you’ve lost nothing. How is that fair?”

This is how Robby felt, the anger and betrayal. The harsh words with no real punch but hurt just the same. A part of him wanted to argue, he felt it in how tight his jaw got, the thoughts popping into his head to tell him it wasn’t easy, it still isn’t easy. Abby left him and he sees the kids once a week and it wasn’t until recently that he started feeling competent at work again. He wanted to scream until his throat was raw. Sometimes he had to ask Abbot or Al Hashimi to send him home early because if they didn’t he was going to do something he’d regret.

“Woah, Brady.” Frank said. “Come on man. Let's try those breathing exercises that Marcus likes. They help me.”

Fighting had never gotten him anywhere though. His tongue sat heavily in his mouth, feeling as if it was a brick being stuck down by concrete. A lump was forming in his throat, this is what he needed from Robby. What Robby couldn’t give him.

“Nothing helps! I’ve been doing the work and I’ve lost everything! What is the point?” Brady said.

“To right the wrongs.” Frank said. “Don’t you want to see your kid again? Didn’t you say he was turning fourteen in a couple months?”

“Don’t talk about my fucking kids!” Brady yelled.

The man's breathing had become erratic, pupils blown wide. In those moments, it felt like the world was moving slower. Brady grabbed the hammer out of his tool belt, it sat tightly in his grip, his knuckles turning white.

“Brady, I promise I can get you help.” Frank said. “Just…what did you take?”

This isn’t benzodiazepines. Whatever Brady took must’ve been laced or he had just taken whatever his dealer could get him at the moment. Lashing out and anger is normal for benzo’s, especially when withdrawing or taking too much, but there was an erratic behavior to Brady that wasn’t typical. The twitchy muscles, pupil dilation, the quick hopping of moods, it seems like some sort of dirty meth or crank or whatever fucked up concoction they were making up on the streets.

“Don’t make me go back to rehab, Frank. Please! I can’t do that again.” Brady said.

It was like Brady wasn’t even seeing him. Frank made direct eye contact, but Brady’s eyes were looking a thousand miles away.

“Don’t worry about that.” Frank said. “Right now I’m concerned about you overdosing on whatever you bought.”

“He said it was Ativan.” Brady said.

“You know it's not, though.” Frank said. “You know you need help, that's why you came to the hospital, right?”

“I don’t, fuck I don’t know!” Brady started to hit his head with his free hand. “I can’t fucking think!”

Frank started to move, stepping forward and going to grab Brady’s arm to stop him from doing any serious damage to himself. He tried to do so as slowly as he could, but it didn’t matter. Brady’s eyes focused on Frank getting into his space, eyes growing large, face turning red. At that moment he looked like an animal. Is that what he looked like when he told Robby he wasn’t high? The scared, desperate, bugging eyes?

In an instant the hammer that was in Brady’s other hand slammed into the right side of Frank's face. The cheek of the hammer made direct contact with zygomatic bone, the bone that sat below the eye socket. A cracking noise rang in Frank’s ear, his vision blurring. A small weak whimper escaped his lips.

He couldn’t make out what was happening anymore, he must’ve fallen at some point because he could feel tarmac under his arms, the gravel digging into his bare skin. Frank could feel hands on him, yanking at his work badge. He fumbled, trying to push them away. From his view, the world was a slanted version of reality. It reminded him of what it's like driving in the rain at night before he got prescription contacts for his astigmatism, lines streaking across his vision, expanding and contracting at whim, making it impossible to tell what was what.

Pain burst out through his back, a quick hard spike hitting his spine. This time he did yell, trying to curl in on himself, but the hands forced him to lay on his side until they yanked the badge off of his scrubs.

He just wanted a smoke break.

-

Robby stood at the central with Dana, bickering. She was asking him to start putting Frank back in the ER, that his talents are being wasted in triage. His gut churned, because he knew he should. He spent three months away thinking about the kid, amongst other things. Frank sent him texts that he ignored. When he finally returned home he found a package from Frank, one of his chips from NA with a thank you letter. Frank came to his mind often. Robby knew he missed something. He’d failed Frank at some point. Done something for Langdon to not trust him enough. And it took being away from everything to realize that's what was bothering him the whole time. Robby hated that he failed another person and he rather blame Frank and get anger than feel shame. Robby knew Frank should be in the ER teaching. But it was one thing to accept the faults in yourself, he just hadn’t got to the part where he could tell others about that. Especially not Frank.

Robby threw Langdon back into triage the moment he came back. The rolling feeling of guilt not allowing him to face Frank. With Al-Hashimi Langdon was back where he was meant to be. And apparently he blossomed in the role. More so than the first time he was in it. Langdon had gathered the med students up like a flush of ducklings. Mel and him were almost connected at the hip. He shared lunches and snack breaks with Whitaker. Javadi forced him to film tiktoks with her. Kwon and Ogilvie always went to him first to present. And there were even Santo’s who would play along with Frank's awful jokes. It wasn’t until Robby heard their back and forth play argument about pac man being a ‘queer icon’ did he realize how much had changed since he left.

It wasn’t only the students or his colleagues, it was his patients. Losing Louie was hard. But it seemed to drive something in Langdon to be more present, more honest, more…more of all the best parts of himself. The parts that Robby had read about in Langdon's paperwork when he did his rotation in the psych unit. He was turning back into that 26 year old kid that showed up eight years ago, but with so much more knowledge.

The thing was…Robby didn’t know how to move Langdon without getting the guy's hopes up. It was one thing to put Langdon back in the trauma unit, but it was all the conversations that would come after it. Robby had been back for a week now from his sabbatical and Langdon hadn’t tried once to talk. It was just small head nods to acknowledge that Langdon was heading to triage or heading home or going to help one of the med students.

That meekness was almost worse than the constant puppy dog nature beforehand. Maybe it's because Robby knew this behavior was due only to him and his actions toward Langdon.

“He really stepped up when you were gone,” said. “You would’ve been proud of him.”

“I am proud of him.” Robby said.

“Have you told him that?”

“Why does he need my approval?” Robby huffed.

“Everyone in his ER is desperate for your approval.” Dana laughed. “Come on, give him at least a shift a week with traumas. That would mean the world to him and I think the med students have missed him a bit.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed them hanging by the doors of Triage chatting with him when they have nothing to do.”

Robby ran his hand through his hair. At some point he would need to acknowledge all the things he wanted to avoid. Maybe he would call his therapist back.

“Today’s as good as any.” Robby sighed.

“Oh my! Do I see you turning a new leaf? Maybe you really did need that sabbatical." Dana smiled.

“I don’t think I can talk to him about anything just yet.”

“Then don’t. Just give him this.”

Robby's eyes searching central for Frank. He couldn’t spot him with any of the med students in rooms or in triage. He needed to speak to him now before he lost any of the courage he did have. The kid was nowhere to be seen.

“Where is he anyways?” Robby said.

“Taking a smoke break in the ambulance bay.” Dana said.

Another thing he’d missed. So much can change over three months. Robby tried not to feel sick, but he’d watched the text Frank sent him and none of them mentioned smoking. He gave small updates in his life. When he got his one year coin, when the program decided he could spend a couple days a week now with the kids, the night he spent at his sponsor's house. They became less frequent over time, and then slowly none the closer it came to Robby coming back. If he’d replied, even once, what would Frank have told him?

“I used to smoke.” Robby said.

“Used to?” Dana laughed. “I can smell the cigarette smoke on you after you come down from the roof.”

The pager clipped to his scrub pants buzzed. He pulled it up and saw it indicated the request to access the medication drawer. Robby furrowed his brow. He hadn’t gotten that message before. He told Dana he was being requested and walked over the medicine shelf.

When he got to the medicine cabinet, he saw a man he’d never seen before. A tall brute of a human, who is definitely not a doctor, not an employee of this hospital. The man was hovering a badge over the scanner, receiving an error message over and over again. Robby could tell the man was frustrated. There was something off with the guy, his body was stiff yet shaking uncontrollably, his skin was red and bright, blood was pulsing through him quickly.

Robby took a few steps back, turning to face where the central desk was, catching Dana’s eyes. He motioned slowly, taking his hand and moving it under his throat to indicate that something was off, mouthing to get security over to him.

He turned back to the man, getting as close as he could to the guy before he noticed Robby. To look as casual as possible, he put his hands into his pockets and loosened up his shoulders.

“Hey man, anything I can help you with?” Robby said.

“Are you a doctor?” He said.

“I am. This is my ER actually. And I don’t remember hearing about anyone like you getting admitted in today.” Robby said.

“I need medication.” The guy said.

The man's speech was choppy and harsh. When he finally looked at Robby, he could see how large the man's pupils were. He was on something and he was reacting poorly. He looked desperate, and willing to act if needed.

“What medication? Maybe I can grab it out of there for you.” Robby said.

“Ativan.”

“Ativan? Are you having issues falling asleep?” Robby said.

He slowly walked up to the man, close enough to the machine to request medication.

“Something like that.” The guy said.

“Me too.” Robby said. “What do you have in your hands?”

The guy lifted his hands up, looking at the badge like he hadn’t even noticed he had it. He handed it over to Robby. It was like the floor was pulled out from under him.

That's why he got a notification on his pager, why the machine was showing an error when the person tried to operate it. Frank had been given limited access to the medication cabinet; if he needed to get benzodiazepines or other highly addictive medication, he would either need approval or have someone else receive it for him. That was the agreement for the first year back in the ED.

“Where’s Frank?” Robby whispered.

“Outside.” The guy said. “Can I get my meds now?”

All that anger he’d been trying to control was boiling over.

“Where the fuck is the security in this goddamn hospital!” Robby shouted.

The ER was quiet for a second, then erupted. The man went to run, but Robby grabbed him by the collar, shoving him into a gurney that was on the wall behind them.

“You're going to sit here, sober up, and then we’re taking you to jail.” Robby snapped.

The man resisted, throwing himself around, arms flying, trying to hit anything they could contact. Robby grabbed his wrists, trying to restrain him.

“Can I get some fucking help!” Robby screamed.

Dana was behind him in a second with a needle plunging into the man’s arm. She pushed the plunger and within seconds he was passed out.

“Sorry, Ahmed was dealing with an angry patient in the waiting room.” Dana said. “I thought a sedative was our next best option.”

“Gloria is going to get an ear full about this later.” Robby mumbled.

Robby and Dana repositioned the man onto the gurney, strapping him down and moving him into an empty room. He found McKay in the hallway, informing her of the situation and asking her to monitor him and to report back when he started to wake up.

He took in a breath. Trying to steady his racing heart. He’s only been back for a week, maybe he wasn’t ready for this.

“Frank-”

“I sent King and Whitaker out there.” Dana said.

-

“Frank? Can you hear me?” Mel said.

Blood was soaking into her scrubs, they sat sticky on her skin, knees digging into the payment.

“Sternum rub?” Whitaker said.

“Go.” Mel said.

Whitaker closed his hand into a fist and rubbed it against the bare skin on Frank’s chest. That got him stirring, a gargling noise coming from his mouth, hands moving to push Dennis off of himself. Frank laid flat on his back.

“He’s alive.” Whitaker, playing his hands on Frank's neck. “He’s got a steady heartbeat. Facial injury, possible fracture of his zygomatic bone, that can put pressure on his retina. We’ll need to check for blood pooling under his eye. Right now we have an open wound about two inches long, unclean cut, skin from his check is hanging.”

“No other visible wounds. Check the back of his head.” Mel said. “There is a lot of blood for it being just a facial injury.”

“It looks like it's starting to clot.” Dennis said, he ran his hands on the back of Frank’s skull. “ Trauma to the back of the skull confirmed. Possibly need a blood transfer. Won’t know until we can take full vitals.”

“Frank? Can you talk to us?” Mel said.

His eyes blinked open, one bright blue as usual, the other though was dirty. It was a molted red from the blood in his eye socket and from the bruising from the force of injury. Mel would have a better idea of the state of Frank if she knew how he received the injuries. Right now she’s just looking at a patchwork face. Skin was hanging under his right eye, the skin was turning black and blood and puffing up from the building pressure. Frank could barely open up his right eye. This eye lid was shiny and bright. They would need to drain the blood eventually. Worst of all was though that the right side of his face seemed hollow, broken in. The naturally sharp contour of his cheekbones didn’t match. Mel knew Whitaker said it was a possible fracture, but Mel was sure the bone was completely destroyed.

“Shit hurts.” Frank whispered.

“I bet.” Dennis laughed. “Can you tell us what happened?”

“Hammer. Face. Not obvious?” Frank said.

He was trying to smile, but the skin on his face was so tight it was hard to tell. His speech was also stiff, he wasn’t opening his mouth like he normally would. The movement was restricted. Mel took it as a good sign though. If he could joke then he wasn’t too bad off.

“Can you look at me for a second, Frank?” Mel said. “Keep eye contact.”

“Ah, concussion test.” Frank said. “Want to bet? I say ten bucks on fuck yea.”

Mel held his head in place while she huffed out a laugh. There was absolutely a concussion. His pupils were two different sizes.

“Are you tired? Sleepy?” Mel said.

“No.” Frank said. “Minor concussion. Just need to monitor me for a couple of hours.”

“Can you not work for one second?” Dennis laughed.

Frank shrugged his shoulders, pushing himself onto his elbows, which caused him to grimace. Mel visually checked him over but didn’t see anything new that would be causing his issue. They shouldn’t be allowing him to move without knowing the full story. But Frank moved confidently and spoke as if very little was wrong.

“After the hammer, what happened?” Mel said.

“Whiplash. Disorientated, fell, I think I hit my head? Kicked the shit out of me.” Frank said. “Back hurts. It always hurts though.”

“Possible neck and back injury then.” Dennis said. “We’ll need to strap you down, MRI, cat scan, all the works.”

“Fuck me.” Frank groaned.

“I’m going to start touching you-”

“I didn’t mean literally Dennis.” Frank said. “You’re not my type.”

“You’re not really my type either.” Dennis said.

“Farmers.” Frank laughed.

Frank was trying to play, he was trying to joke. Mel could see a twinkle in his eyes, but that his face was starting to strain from the pain of the injuries. They would need to get him on some sort of pain medication, even just an NSAID for the time being until they can work on a program that would work with his addiction.

Mel squeezed his hand lightly and felt Frank squeeze it back.

“I don’t want to freak you two out.” Frank said.

Whitaker started poking Frank down the side of his body, watching to see if he naturally reacted to the stimuli.

“Frank?” Mel said.

Whitaker's face went white. He was taking the shoe off of Frank's right leg, poking the bottom of his foot. No reaction.

“Please don’t freak out.” Frank said.

“We have no feeling below his waist.” Whitaker said.

“It might mean nothing.” Frank said.

“Langdon? How are we feeling buddy?” Robby said.

Mel turned, he was walking up followed by Santos and Donnie with a gurney. Robby kneeled down and Mel could hear his knees pop. He pushed the hair from Frank’s face, taking in his own visual scan. Robby was shaking.

“Like someone on crank just demolished my Ken-like features.” Frank said.

“Javadi’s tiktok's will suffer.” Robby laughed.

“Shen will have to step in to replace me.”

“You wound me.” Robby laughed.

Something warm bubbled under Mel’s skin. She couldn’t help but smile as she watched the two interact. Over the past three months of Robby being gone, she and Frank had had some nights where he’d be sitting on her couch, dropping it all on her. How much he needed Robby, how much he regretted what he did to the man. The tears and the crying and the fear. Frank saying he knew Robby would hate him forever, that he would never see that side of Robby where the two could just make fun of each other. It was those late nights that Mel and Frank really became friends, her hugging him as he let it all out. And the next day he made breakfast and thanked her for listening.

Mel had always been optimistic. She didn’t know Robby well, but she always sensed the two needed each other in a way that a father needs his son. There would be a hole in both their souls that couldn’t be filled with anything but each other.

“I brought a sedative.” Robby said.

“No, Robby, please.” Frank said.

“You know we can’t do the work you need if you’re awake for it. You're in too much pain.” Robby said.

“Goddamn it.” Frank mumbled. “Fuck!”

Tears were gathering in Frank's eyelids. Mel squeezed his hand again, Frank squeezed it back tighter.

“Hey, hey it's ok.” Robby said. “This doesn’t affect your progress. You got hurt, we need to treat you, and we know how to treat you.”

“It’ll feel like I’m starting over.” Frank whispered.

“It might.” Robby said. “But we’ll all be here for you this time around.”

“Ok.” Frank said.

“I’m sorry.” Robby said.

“Me too.” Frank said.

Santos handed him the needle and Robby poked it into the soft skin in Frank's elbow crease and pushed down the plunger. Frank's eyes fluttered closed.

“He’ll be ok.” Robby said. “The night crew is coming in shortly. Let's prep Frank for them.”

“We’re not operating on him?” Mel said.

“We’re all a bit too close to do the work unbiased." Robby said. “Take it from me…it's harder if something goes wrong. And I don’t want you lot in that situation. Abbot and his team will help Frank.”

Mel looked down at her hand in Franks and saw she was shaking as well. She didn’t do anything, just spoke with him, Whitaker was the one who stepped up. Robby was right, they couldn’t be the ones to operate on him.

-

The room was too bright. He blinked his eyes a couple times, but he couldn’t focus. The fluorescent light above him was like a nailgun ramming into his head.

The lights above him shut off. He sighed in relief.

“Thanks Mels.” Frank mumbled.

“How are you feeling?” She said.

“Better than before.” Frank said. “Can I see my chart?”

“No screens for you for a month.” Mel said. “Concussion protocol.”

“What did they do to me then?” Frank said.

“Abbot and Shen drained the blood that was building up behind your eye, then they stitched up the cut on the back of your head and on your cheek. They maneuvered the facial bone as best as they could to its original placing.” Mel said. “Abbot said you might want to look into reconstruction once it's fully healed. Are you feeling any pain right now?

Frank touched the stitches on his face. It was a curved jagged line, the scar was going to be rough. Abbot was great with a needle and thread though so he was sure it would be barely notable once it was fully healthed. A bit above the stitches was a metal plate that sat across most of the right side of his face. A few strings held it in place.

“Luckily surgery wasn’t needed for that. They could relocate the bones pretty easily. You’ll be wearing that thing for a month though.” Mel said.

Frank blinked the blurriness out of his eyes, looking to see that Mel was sitting on a hospital care next to his bed. He’d been kept in the ER. He huffed, they don’t need to be filling a bed with him. He smiled and felt the metal plate keeping his check in place. He must’ve looked lopsided.

“Doesn’t hurt much. More so uncomfortable.” Frank said. “What pain medication do they have me on?”

“When they operated they used morphine and now just acetaminophen.” Mel said. “Robby is going to speak about pain medication options for the short term.”

“I can feel my legs again.” Frank observed.

“You can thank Abbot for that.” Mel said. “Did you know you had a spinal fracture before this?”

“Dr. Hagen never mentioned it.” Frank said.

“Well…Abbot wanted to look at your past scans before he operated. It was so minor it's possible Dr. Hagen never noticed or assumed it would heal on its own.” Mel said. “That small fracture turned into a vertebral compressional fracture from the years of not being treated and Brady’s attack must’ve been the straw on the camel's back, causing the bone to basically shatter. That was why you were paralyzed.”

“Abbot performed a Kyphoplasty on me?” Frank said.

That meant a month or two at least with a back brace. Physical therapy for a year. Pain meds. That meant daily pain meds.

“He said in three months you’ll be as mobile as you were in college.” Mel smiled.

He laughed, loud and full. It filled the room. In college he was on the track team, he was in cross country, he was pole vaulting and long jumping. He was all over the place. Frank doubted he would go back to that, but if he could run around the park with his kids for more than ten minutes, he would take as long as the healing process would need.

“When do I get to go back to work?” Frank said.

“I think we should just focus on you getting better.” Mel said.

“You know that's not how I work.” Frank said. “I bet I could start next week.”

“Frank, you really scared the shit out of all of us.” Mel said.

That caused him to pause. Mel doesn’t swear. He wished he could see what he looks like, he must look worse than he feels. Mel looked at him, wide wet eyes, her hands twisting in her lap. She was still wearing the black scrubs and the same yellow undershirt. There were blue bags under her eyes. She’s tried, exhausted even.

“How long was I out?” He said.

“You were in and out of it for three days.” Mel said.

Frank reached across the bed and grabbed Mel’s hand, their fingers interlocking.

“I’m sorry for scaring you.” Frank said. “Thank you for staying.”

“Of course I stayed.” Mel said. “You’re my best friend.”

“Ditto.” Frank smiled.

Frank yawned.

“You should get some sleep.” Mel said.

“So should you.” Frank said. “In a bed and not in that chair. You’re going to have back problems like me.”

“Someone should be here with you.” Mel said.

“And I’m sure someone will.” Frank said. “I bet you med students got a whole group chat about Frank Watch.”

Mel laughed lightly. She ran her thumb over Frank's knuckles. It was a soothing rhythm.

“Don’t you want to go home?” Frank said.

“I’m exactly where I want to be.” Mel said.

Frank adjusted his body, trying to move to one side of the small hospital bed. He patted the empty bedding, looking at Mel.

“We can share.” Frank said. “We’ve shared before.”

“Yeah, not in a twin sized bed.” Mel said.

“I thought we were best friends?” Frank said.

She smiled and got into the bed, facing Frank. His eyelids were growing heavy.

“I’m not Whitaker’s type?” Frank said.

“He was hoping you’d forget about that.” Mel laughed.

“Do you think I’m Shen’s type?” Frank said.

“Yes, for the thousandth time, yes.” Mel said. “He left you a get well card.”

“Really?”

“Oh my god you're blushing!” Mel squealed.

“I am not!”

“You’re down bad!”

“And you aren’t?”

“We are not talking about Donnie right now.”

“Mel…seriously thank you.” Frank said. “I don’t want to be alone.”

Rehab was lonely. Those first two weeks of detox were hard, especially with the only people he saw were the nurses making sure he wasn’t going to die. Then came the months in inpatient, with rotating roommates he never got to know much about. Abby would come when she could but the facility was three hours from Pittsburg and she couldn’t spend that much time away from the kids often. Sometimes his parents would call or Abby’s parents would, but never a visit. He never even asked about the kids coming. He knew better.

This already felt different. He wasn’t scared.

“You’re stuck with me.” Mel said. “You should sleep now. Robby will be here when you wake up.”

“You?” Frank murmured, the exhaustion starting to hit him.

“I’ll be working in a couple hours.” Mel said. “Robby will get me if you need me.”

Frank fell asleep before he could say anything more.

-

This time when he woke up, he knew he was still in the ER, in the same room with the lights off. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but he felt better than he did last time he woke up. He stretched, feeling the muscles in his back shift. It wasn’t like before, when any movement could turn into shooting pain that ran up and down his spin. It was a gentle throb. It felt like recovery.

“Morning kiddo.”

“Not a kid.” Frank said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“I’m fifteen years your senior. You're a kid.” Robby said.

“And I’m ten years older than Trinity.” Frank said. “I’m at least a teenager.”

“You’re a kid to me Frank.” Robby said. “You…you looked like a kid out there in the parking lot.”

Frank felt his limps grow heavy. Robby had been avoiding him before this and if Frank was honest with himself, he had been avoiding Robby as well. Frank went to find his NA chip he kept in his pocket when he needed to fidget, needed to move. If he couldn’t run around the parking lot, the next best thing he could do was that.

He had been changed into a gown. Which, duh, he thought. They couldn’t perform surgery with him in his scrubs.

Robby reached into his pocket and pulled out the red chip Frank had sent him months ago.

“You kept it?” Frank whispered.

“Of course.” Robby said.

“You never said anything.”

“I didn’t know how.” Robby said. “I still don’t…I’m seeing a therapist.”

“Me too.”

Robby laughed. He handed the chip over to Frank who started to flip it between his knuckles. It was a natural movement for him.

“I’m bad at this.” Robby said.

“Hmmm, I haven’t noticed.”

“Just, I’m sorry.” Robby said.

Those words sat in the air for a long time. He didn’t even notice he was crying until Robby was handing him a tissue and he saw that Robby was also crying. Large silent tears that ran down his checks and left clear lines.

“Is this pity?” Frank said.

“Seeing you like that…it definitely was the kick in the ass that I needed.” Robby said. “When I came back I was scared that I wasn’t ready to talk to you. That I would get angry again and make things worse than how I left it three months ago.”

“I’d rather you be angry than…” Frank felt his voice catch in his throat.

“I know. I really fucked up.” Robby said.

“So…what now?”

“We both get better. And we do that together.” Robby said.

Frank knew better than anyone how difficult it was to deal with the demons inside your own mind. He knew that Robby would struggle and fail and say all the wrong things. He would hurt Frank and along the way Frank would hurt him too. Recovery isn’t easy, but the important things never are.

“I like that plan.” Frank said. “So who else is waiting to see me?”

“The whole damn ER is outside these doors. No exaggeration." Robby said. “Who do you want first?”

“You can send in my flock.” Frank said. “But tell Victoria no tiktok's until I’m back to being pretty. I don’t want to disappoint our fans.”

-

It's been a long four months since than.

“Dr. Shen.”

“Dr. Robby.”

It was too early in the morning for Robby to be doing this. Arms crossed tight over his chest, face stern and hard like a rock. He hadn’t even taken off his motorcycle jacket, he hadn’t even clocked in yet.

“So what's the plan?”

“The plan?” Shen laughed.

“What do you intend to do on your date?”

“Do I need to get approval?”

“No, but–”

But what? Robby couldn’t explain it. He knew John was a good guy, a great guy, a person who would never purposely hurt another person. He was Abbot's right hand man, the star of the night shift. If Frank was going to date anyone after his divorce, John was the obvious best choice. Robby had heard enough about their night shift antics from Abbot to know the two worked flawlessly together. It was like Frank was the battery to the machine that is John Shen. One could not properly function without the other.

He’d also seen the way Frank would duck his head when Shen complimented his work, trying to hide the heat that was rising to his checks. It was like he was seeing that young kid again on his first day in the ER, so nervous, but so excited all over again. Shen made him feel that way all the time.

“You’re acting like his dad and that's really weirding me out.” Shen said.

“I’m his Attending which is basically the same thing.” Robby said.

“You and Abbot are off your rockers.” Shen said. “We’re going to get coffee, than go one a walk, and if I’m lucky–”

“I shouldn’t have asked.” Robby groaned.

“We’ll go to bed early because we’ve both had a long night shift.” Shen grinned.

Robby left out a sigh. He wasn’t Frank’s dad. Langdon’s dad is still alive and pretty aware of Frank’s life. He didn’t need another dad, he didn’t need Robby. That was the hardest part of therapy for Robby, learning and accepting that the relationship they once had can’t ever come back. The two of them had to rebuild something different.

The two of them didn't need each other. But they wanted each other. Robby wanted Frank like the son he’d never have and Frank wanted Robby like the father his could never be.

There were bad days and good days. Ones where Frank would just walk into Triage without Robby even telling him too. Or the days where Frank would cuss Robby out for reminding him about the drug testing. Ones where Robby would drive Frank home after work and they would watch the Penguins game and the group nights of drinking beers in the park across the hospital. Where Robby could watch Frank really relax and laugh with the med students or poke fun at Dana or the play fights with Samira for the last beer. The days where Robby would remember Admonson and think about how proud he’d be with how far Robby's come.

Frank was like a son to him. One he’d failed more than anyone else in his life. But someone Robby would never give up on again. If he can build himself back up to where he once was, better than he once was, he can always stay be Frank’s side. Even when things are hard, they now know how to work through it.

“Just…treat him right. Ok?” Robby said. Do better than I did, went unsaid.

“Yeah, like I was planning on treating him like shit.” Shen said. “You have nothing to worry about.”

He knows.

Frank walked out of the locker room with Mel by his side. She was dressed in her scrubs, ready to start her morning shift and Frank was in his civvies. Blue jeans, black shirt, penguins baseball cap. He looked happy. The two spoke in quiet whispers, giggling as they walked up to Shen and Robby.

“John, Dr. Robby.” Mel said. “I’ll be in unit four if you need me.”

Shen grabbed Frank's hand, lacing their fingers together. Robby stared for a second, then smiled softly.

“We’re still on for the Penguins game on Thursday, right?” Robby said.

“As long as you're covering the beer this time.” Frank said.

“Shen? You wanna join us?” Robby said.

“Anywhere Frank wants me I’ll go.” Shen said.

“Abbot will be there.” Frank said. “Oh my god, it’ll be like having our dads meeting for the first time even though they work together and are best friends.”

“Abbot isn’t my dad.” Shen said.

Frank gave Robby a look.

“He’s not my dad.” Shen said.

Nobody said anything.

“Oh my god, does everyone think this?” Shen exasperated.

Robby laughed, “I’d take it as a compliment.”

“Come on, I’ll explain why over coffee.” Frank said. “See you Robby.”

The duo turned around and started to make their way to the exit. Robby’s chest felt warm and he noticed the anxiety he was feeling early had disappeared.

“Hey! Don’t keep him out too late! He works tomorrow morning!” Robby shouted.

“Ok, Dad!” Frank yelled back.

This is how it's meant to be.