Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The ring came at the suggestion of a fellow member of the SMART Recovery group that he had found out in West Virginia, far enough away that Frank could reassure himself that nobody would know him, or know of him. He twisted its movable center back and forth, flaky hands focused in this one single pursuit. Joining a group was part of the requirements put in place for him to keep his job, and in doing that, his career. It had all been a misunderstanding, or so he kept telling himself before. The drugs in his locker, the skim he took off the top of carefully selected patients, it was nothing more than a means to an end. He needed to at least wean himself off, then he was finished. It was over. Over and over he told himself this, practicing it out like scripture, day in and day out. In rehab, they had to shake the belief from him. There were times where that confidence lingered in the background of his mind, stress brought temptation. The ring encouraged redirection of thought. The physical motion of the twist was a signal to change one’s thinking into a neutral, sometimes positive mindset. At the second twist, think of the worst that could happen. Twist back to challenge that thought. Repeat as needed. The routines and patterns were what Frank leaned on the most.  

The ring was a dependable companion that kept the shame and catastrophe at bay before work, as he neared the single-door fire entrance to the basement emergency department. The second he went down the sloped path, however, the ring would be put away, stashed away in his locker. 

That day was less than a year ago when a different kind of stash had been found, and there hadn't been a day that Robby let him forget it. It wasn’t in what he said, but in the lack of anything to say at all. During Frank’s absence, Doctor Mohan had become the class favorite. Perhaps she always was, and that was why Robby was always riding her, before. These days, though, the critique’s on her speed turned into compliments and softball questions that any third year resident could manage. To her credit, Frank did notice her speed to be less of an issue. While Frank was spending his time in group therapy, Samira had found the perfect intersection between her data-driven, empathetic care and the speedy, on your feet thinking required of every doctor in the ED. As annoying as it was to see her get praised by his mentor, it was deserved. His own issue was the clear preferential treatment. While Mohan was treated like she hung the moon for Doctor Robby, Frank may as well be a ghost in Robby’s eyes. Someone to be eyed with scrutiny while haunting the PDS, but otherwise, he was ignored. Not sidelined, but not sought out, either. It was the ring that steadied his mind before every shift like this, and the ring that kept him from falling apart on the commute home. 

A two-bedroom apartment near Bellevue. Travel-wise, he could bus to work just fine, but the shoddily remodeled interior of the old building felt empty compared to the busy, memento-filled walls of what used to be his home. Abby had been insisting there was some sort of problem before Robby. Getting caught at work, trying to distract her from the everything of it all with a puppy, it was enough. Something gave. It could always be temporary. Whatever gives could be propped back up again, put back in place. 

So what? Your attempts to heal thyself blew up in your face, your mentor openly hates you at work, and your wife kicked you out? So what? It’s only up from here. You go back to work.

It was hot all summer, and the heat bled into an unseasonably warm fall, a week shy of Thanksgiving. Sunday, the Steelers were away, he’d be a fool not to expect weird barbeque burns and cooking accidents. Cold water compresses and SSD cream will be the items of the day. Slightly cloudy, with a high percentage of sport injuries and a chance of flu-like symptoms. To the left, he’d rather run in the opposite direction of this door. To the right, there was always a chance of seeing Mel, and as tiresome as it was to face such obvious judgement from their attending, she never treated him differently since returning. Left, as nice as it was to keep the friendship, her puppy eyed hero worship could be a bit much. Right, he never had as many friends here as he thought he did, at least Mel was good company. Doctor Robby wasn’t the only coworker to keep their head down around him. Frank was careful to avoid finding out just what was being said about him, but there was no way he couldn’t notice how some of his colleagues avoided looking him in the eye. McKay was a notable exception, in fact, she seemed to have more of a vested interest in him than before. 

“Frank, hey.” Her warm voice rang out from behind him, past the footsteps, cars, and crosswalk signs. He looked up from his ring, the metal now warm to the touch from use. There was one of two allies, bangs not yet askew from sweat and overwork. Her gentle glances and constant check ups told him more than enough. The reason for his absence was known, and McKay was empathetic towards it. Who was he to tell her straight? It was better for McKay to feel like she was helping, than for him to lash out and turn yet another friend away. 

He lowered his hand and turned her way. As nice as her empathy was, he was determined to show that he didn’t need it. He wasn’t some freshly sober junkie in need of a sponsor, he didn’t need her concern. “We’re doing first names now? Since when?” 

“We’ve worked together long enough, don’t you think?” She shot back, breezy and casual. It would work, if he didn’t pick up on exactly what she was doing. McKay motioned down towards his hand, wearing the ring he was hyperfocused on just moments ago. Nothing escaped her notice. “What are you doing, there?” 

“It’s for fidgeting. Just something that I’m trying out for the nerves.” Frank replied. 

“For the nerves.” Mckay repeated, nodding. “I wish they had made something like that sooner, now I just pour the nerves into my work. Super healthy in the long run.”
“Physician knows best.” Frank dared to glance towards the entrance. “Your nerves make you perfect for this job, for what it's worth.” 

“That’s what it is? Not the med school and internship?” She signaled towards that damned glass entry, he forced himself in line with her steps towards it. “Balancing motherhood and my job, learning the value of patience, using my unique origins for good and-’ 

“Okay, alright! We get it. Doctor Cassie McKay, doctor extraordinaire. Everything about you makes you perfectly suited for the Pit.” 

“You’re goddamn right.” She smiled, satisfied with the retraction. She stopped just before the automatic doors, just close enough for them to open, but she turned to face Frank, instead. “You ready?” 

No. He was never ready, these days. “For another day in paradise.” He drawled out like it was nothing. 

McKay - Cassie. Cassie waved a wand towards the sensor, adding an extra flourish with a bow. “On we go.” 

It was sweet, and he needed the warmth. The quips with Garcia were losing their fun. As his headaches at work increased, his tolerance for joking around slowly died out over time. One row of their usual banter soured when their patient decided to code in the middle of it. A slow revival of their mutual trust, paired with their mutual distaste, dissipated when one comment got too personal. 

“C’mon, Langdon, where’s your speed?” She tutted over a particularly difficult crike. “I could have done this in my sleep. You’re shaky.” 

Shaky. Within the context of their job, shaky hands was already a pointed insult. It was the hands of inexperience, or nervousness. Within the context of the past months, it was a potential symptom to watch out for. It was a meeting with Robby at the end of the day, no way to hide from the disappointment in his voice, no way to avoid the less-than-discreet locker searches. He didn’t answer the jab, what could he say that wouldn’t come off defensive in the moment? As soon as the tube found its way through the swollen neck and into the struggling trachea and the patient monitor showed stabilizing vitals, he pushed past the mess of scrubs and equipment to walk out of the room. 

“Where the hell are you g-” His gloves pulled off his hands with a loud slap, tossed in the general direction of the garb bin outside the room. Still, the voice followed behind him. “Frank. Frank! Where’s your sense of humor today? Can you get back in there, you left your resident hang-” 

“Yolanda, leave me alone, now. Can you, for once, just shut the fuck up!?” He wheeled around, managing to get the words out past the shorter breaths and tingling sensation in those shaky, shaky hands. In that moment, all was true. They were shaky. He was struggling. Robby will fire him. 

Through the glass windows of the trauma room, he saw Mel staring at him, the concern undeniable. Fear, even, seeing what a real fight between him and Garcia looked like. He couldn’t look at Garcia, too distracted by the fact that he’d never seen Mel truly scared, and he was the cause of that. Yeah. He did leave her hanging, didn’t he? He was the one who spent months away from the hospital without explanation. He was the one who came back distant and harder. She wasn’t an idiot, she’d seen examples of his temper before. This time, for whatever reason, was different for her. Was there a disappointment to that fear in her eyes? 

He broke eye contact with Mel and kept walking. Past Dana, past Princess, all the way to the ambulance bay. 

“Frank… the door is just going to keep opening and closing.” Cassie pulled him from the memory. “You can go in, now.” 

Right. He attempted a smile and walked through that damn automatic door. Through chairs, to the lockers, where all personal belongings sat tight while he traded himself the man for Doctor Langdon, resident of the Pit. Scrub up, wash your hands, be someone worth Robby’s notice today. Avoid the mirror at all costs. 

Amidst the chaos of the ED, tunnel vision liked to take over the body. There was no formality in clocking in and taking five minutes at the start for coffee. Frank walked in with purpose, approaching the hub to glance at the screens hovering above a small group of staff flocking around for the start of rounds. This was where it truly took hold. Like an automaton in sync with the rest of the machines, you meet at the hub, you get the run-down from the attending, you go as fast as you can to sift through the cases you know you can treat right away, mixed in with the cases that need investigating, and you hope to God a trauma doesn’t pull up to the ambulance entrance. Frank knew the routine well. It was beaten into his skin until the aches turned into muscle memory and the bruises felt like badges of honor. This hospital had been where Frank began his internship. These halls had been his for four years going on five. In becoming a part of his life, it had overtaken it in the process, until it became the one routine that he had engrained in his bones. Perhaps because there was so little to it. The lack of the predictable was the predictable, and to remember every possibility became a possible goal. 

“Good morning, Doctor Langdon.” Mel was among the early birds at the hub, once again. Her initial eagerness had mellowed out somewhat, but she was still her upbeat, awkward self. She wore the tired eyes of an overworked doctor, but there was still color in her cheeks. Her smile had managed to keep itself from becoming half-hearted. Only time could tell how sturdy a doctor was, no matter their personality. He was proud to see her withstand the test of time, here. Not just withstand it, she started to look more comfortable in the setting. Frank didn't have to check in as much, and she was more open to asking for breaks. 

Still the same Mel who said strange things, and reacted to her surroundings with her entire face, and still the one person who acted like she was thrilled to be here, but sharper. She was going to be the best ER doctor this place had, at the rate she went. 

“Morning, Doctor King.” 

She was his favorite person here, but the friendship was too new for that sort of intensity, so he'd never tell her that. Her first day here, God, it must have been eighty percent pep talks. She returned the favor a few times, since then, but she was one of the few who didn't speak about his absence at all. His first day back, she was the only one who acted like he never left. It was a shame he could never bring himself to talk about it, she was likely waiting on him to bring it up first. The idea of that conversation unnerved him. He knew she wouldn't judge him, but it didn't feel right to unload his sins onto her. Nobody as good as her needed to be dragged into the mess he made. 

“Someone ordered donuts for the staff.” She shared, her voice lowered like it was classified information. “Peace, Love and Little Donuts. You better get in on it early.” 

“Someone made a poor delivery guy go from the strip to here?” Frank hummed. “I feel so special.” 

“I saw a Boston Cream in there. I hid it in the back of the fridge. Figured you’d like to know." That one was a semi-common breakfast for him. When did she learn that? 

“Wait, really?”

McKay caught up with them before Mel could answer, followed by most of the usual crowd. A notable exception, Trinity Santos, had requested to shift to nights not too long after Frank went on leave. They only saw each other during shift change, and all he heard about her was second-hand, usually from the mouth of the man across from him, Whittaker. He greeted everyone with a fun anecdote of him and Santos considering a cat. Yesterday, it was Santos trying to sneak a girl out while Whittaker returned home. Last week, one of them made fucking pancakes. The two of them worked well as roommates. Frank would be happy for them, if he wasn’t so bitter. 

His closest friends lived in a circle of chairs in his memories of them, and his mentor was more like a stranger, but Santos got her opposites attract buddy sitcom and the chance to work with the late night cowboys. It wasn’t her fault for his addiction, but without her, it wouldn’t have gotten out. It was like she threw a bomb into Frank’s life, just to disappear without a trace, without the chance for closure. His hands gripped each end of the stethoscope around his neck while he politely pretended to listen. Santos got to have a group of co-workers she could trust to vent to. Frank received various lectures and the responsibility of how everyone else felt about his choices, whether they realized they were broadcasting it or not. 

He imagined a twisting ring. To the left, he was surrounded by people who mistrusted him, and weren’t safe to bring his gripes about that up with. None of these people were really his friends. Most of them met him for one really bad day, and have barely spoken to him since. To the right, Mel saved him a donut in the breakroom. She made him feel normal in a room of people waiting for him to crash. Whittaker got a laugh from Dana and Javadi. Did it seem like Mel was distracted, too? Did those tired eyes go elsewhere, and where? She must have felt his eyes on her, because she glanced his way, inquisitive.

“You okay?” He broke out of his thoughts with a blink, nodding. 

“Yup.”

“Alright, everybody, gather up.” Doctor Robby’s voice rose above the chatter, and the automatons all turned his way, Frank included. He looked a usual level of haggard, but nothing gave the indication that there was a risk of meltdown. Langdon wondered if Robby had to work on himself as well, over the months. He’d know if the man would just talk to him. Was he waiting on Langdon to make the first move? Was he still as angry as he was, that fateful day? “We have another busy one in store for us today. The wait in chairs is nearing close to five hours. It’s a football game day, so keep that in mind. Heat strokes, burns, family games gone wrong, be prepared for all three. I want to get beds flipped and ready for the next crop as fast as possible today. We keep our minor emergencies at an acceptable level, and we can be better prepared for traumas and codes. If you can’t discharge them, figure out where they need to go.” 

Alright speech today. To the point, not too frantic. Langdon missed when he could tell him that. Even in a setting like this, it was as if he trained his eyes to avoid Langdon completely, gazing around at everyone but him. 

“I will now turn your attention over Doctor Ellis, who will pass the torch. Good luck, today, everyone. Whenever you need me, I’ll be floating around. If you cannot find me, find your resident doctors, Mckay, Mohan, Collins, or Langdon. They’ll be keeping a close eye on you. Find Nurse Dana, the best of all of us. We are all here to help you. Ellis, they’re all yours.” 

The mention did catch Langdon’s attention for a moment. For the past month, that sentence was, ‘Find your resident doctors, or Nurse Dana.’ It could be a sign of growing trust again, to single them out. It could be nothing. The change was at least enough for it to stay in the back of his mind while staff followed behind Ellis for rounds. Someone with a cleaver lodged in their thigh, barbeque prep gone wrong. An x-ray showed that it was unsafe to remove without a surgery the patient was now waiting for. A feverish child, unable to hold food down or pass normal stool, a stream of electrolytes running through his arm. Viral, by the present pallor in his youthful face. Stroke-like symptoms next door, monitoring for clots while the anticoagulants worked their magic. Three girl scouts of the same troops experienced purpura rashes all over their arms and legs, still awaiting some tests, but a hiking trip last week out into Beaver County pointed towards RMSF. Until they knew for sure, Doxy was administered to be on the safe side. The spots were still pinkish in hue. They would be okay, and maybe even gain a badge in tick prevention from it. Jolly. On and on, the patients came and went. Some faded into the background, those who were already treated and awaiting discharge or transfer. Others made him ask questions. Did the confused sixty-seven year old in room five have meningitis, or did the symptoms look more like dementia? Was the diabetic attack in thirteen caused by too much glucose, or was there an underlying condition developing? What about that gnarly tibia fracture in eighteen that just got the room? Anyone called dibs on that one, yet? Skateboarding accident. The patient had one of those giant Pirates logos on his arm, the true blue yinzer locals that came in were some of Frank's most entertaining patients. 

After rounds, the games commenced. Whittaker and Mohan teamed up to take on the girl scouts. Javadi and McKay assumed the usual routine of discharges and chairs. Collins directed Mel his way to go take a closer look at that fracture together, much to his delight. They were a dynamic duo, and they had been since Mel’s first day. When he first got back, nothing felt normal unless she was at his heels, always requiring him to turn just to see her. She still wore the same braid, still tried to hit the top of the door with him before procedures. They still somehow worked, despite their differing approaches and opposite personalities. His consistent slice of normal in this otherwise upended life. Frank would set a bone with her, any day of the week. 

After the skateboarder, one of those professionally high types of stoners, thanked them both and asked for a selfie to commemorate, they turned their focus to the viral case. All that could really be done was fluids, antivirals, and bland foods, but he had a lot to tell them about the Superman movie. According to mom, he’d been obsessed since it was in theaters. 

“So does that make us punk rockers, too?” Mel asked, a measured level of patience to her that could only come from experience. 

“If you’re nice to everyone, yeah.” Dillon replied, a tint of color returning to his cheeks. “You gotta be nice, too. It’s not all about saving people.” 

“Mhm.” She looked over at Langdon. “I think I’m nice. Doctor Langdon here is nice when he wants to be.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, glancing up from the chart. “I’m nice enough to request another sandwich for him, aren’t I?” 

“I dunno. A really nice doctor might throw in some jello.” Mel kept her tone light, never fighting her smile around kids. Dillon perked up, the idea of something with flavor rose his spirits. Did she know that she would be a rockstar at pedes? “What’s your favorite flavor, Dillon?” 

“Blue. Or orange, please.” He rasped out through a sore throat. 

“Blue or orange, I can get right on that for you, buddy.” Frank put down Dillon’s chart. “In the meantime, you’re looking a lot better than when you came in. I’ve got a few more tests I’m waiting on, and then you and Mom should be good to go.” 

“Can you also turn the TV on?” Dillon asked.

“That’s fine, Dillon, I can grab that for you.” His mom interjected, a thinner woman who gave Dillon his strawberry blonde hair, her own thrown into a ponytail. If her plastic red name tag was anything to go by, she was missing work for this. “We shouldn’t keep the doctors too long.” 

She didn’t look all that well, herself, but it could be from worry. It could be from a continued lack of care for herself. Something about the rushed way she spoke, or the way her hands always needed to fidget with something, Frank had a feeling she had a lot to worry about. She must do a lot for the kid. 

Tanner turned five while Frank was in rehab. Chalk ‘missing your kid’s birthday’ up with the rest of his regrets. He was afraid Tanner would only remember him in these years as a voice on the phone. He feared that was going on long enough to be the norm, at this point. Retail jobs were a special breed of hell, but the hours were probably just a little bit better. The stakes were definitely a lot lower. She wouldn’t have to miss her kid as much. 

To the left, God, he missed his family. He missed being at home after a long shift. He longed for somewhere that was truly lived in, with pictures on the fridge, and scuffs in the hard wood. To the right, Dillon wanted blue or orange jello, this was going to be the easiest request of the day. They left the room soon after, the jello being added to their shortlist of morning chores. 

“He was a sweetie.” Mel remarked on their way to the hub. 

“Yeah. Sweet kid. Smart kid.” Langdon busied himself with the screens, his arms folding over his chest as he pushed the thought of his own child from his mind. Off the clock, he can dig worrylines into his forehead over his family. Here and now, there was too much to do. How about an adult case. According to the time, the nursing home death march would be upon them soon. They could try to save some lives well lived, to take his mind off the younger ones. “Most of them are smarter than we give them credit for.” 

“I like when you can tell they’ve got good parents behind him. My parents were like that. They would bend over backwards for us, sometimes.” She eyed a potential kidney condition in seven. “You know, he reminds me of this one summer, right after school got out. I got so sick with something, I could barely leave my bed. Becca would come in and brush my hair for me, then put it in a braid. It kept the tangles to a minimum, us King sisters are very protective about our hair.”

He blinked and looked away from the screens for a moment. After their first day, a part of him wanted to take back the things he did when he wasn’t right. Walking away from her random stories of her and her sister was one of those things. He made an effort to stick around, or at least make sure she was still behind him when he started off in a different direction. They were never the most interesting stories, but over time, he decided he liked hearing them anyway. “Sounds pretty punk rock of her.” 

“It was.” Her lips pursed as she determined whether it was fine to ask what she wanted to. After deliberation, she pushed the boundary just an inch past the professional line. “How’s your kid?” 

Not the question he wanted to answer while trying to get his mind off missing his old normal. Still, it was Mel. She was only asking with the best intentions. He could trust that, but he decided to keep it vague. “I, uh, I took him out to a corn maze. Last week. We drove across the border into Ohio for it.” 

“Ohio? Why would you go that far out?” Mel asked. “Triple B’s is right there.” 

The fellow parent friends Abby has made from preschool are more than likely to go to Triple B’s, where they’ll find him and Tanner, without Abby. “Why would I go there when the one in New Springfield has a big slide?” 

Mel took the answer as a challenge, rather than a poorly made excuse.

“A big slide versus a big trampoline? I’d pick a trampoline.” 

“You’d be right in that pick, but you’ve been walking for over twenty years now. Tanner has been for about three and a half.” 

“You don’t walk on trampolines, you jump.” 

“Yeah, he’s still new to that one, too. Dana-” Frank waved the charge nurse over. “Dealer’s choice, King. What are you looking at, right now?” 

“I bet you it’s stones in seven. Wanna see if her urinalysis came back?” 

“How much are we wagering? I have a little more hope that it’s a simple UTI for her. The pain grade isn’t too high.” 

“Pain grades are grossly misleading. They can’t help but be subjective to the patient’s history of pain. Twenty bucks its stones, and she’s underselling the pain. Two kids, according to her file, she could be one of those proud types.” He sort of had to assure her that this kind of banter was fair game before she started playing along. Betting on the smaller cases didn’t have to get too morbid, and it passed the time. They both kept score, but money never exchanged hands, at least so far. 

“Twenty? Low ball. Thirty it’s UTI.” He challenged back. 

“Are you two done, yet?” Dana asked, who knew how long she was standing there. She raised her eyebrows at Frank for a moment, a flicker of something on her face. It wasn’t so different from the looks exchanged when Garcia picked a new intern to flirt with. The insinuation angered Langdon, but not because he’d be embarrassed by a crush on Mel. It was just that he and Abby were separated, not divorced. He had his vows, and he was determined to keep them. 

His words became clipped when he answered Dana. Apart from Robby, she was another one he was more careful around, but that didn’t mean he always hid his annoyance with her. She knew Frank as well as Robby, yet they only ever spoke if necessary these days. It was the two people that hurt most, icing him out. “The kid, Dillon. He wants a sandwich and jello.” 

“Blue or orange.” Mel added in a rush. “If you can, please.” 

Her eyes stayed trained on Frank, then the suspicion flickered off, and she turned her attention to Mel. “I most certainly can, for that one. You know, Dillon is somewhat regular. I always got a good read on the mom, but he’s in here a lot for a kid. I’d take a look at past records, too. Might be something to it.” 

“Oh, yeah. Of course.” Mel nodded. “Let me take a look at the stones -”

“Or the UTI.” 

“- Definitely not a UTI, but yeah, I can take a closer look at Dillon’s case after that.” 

“Thanks, Mel.” She gave Frank one last silent warning. One that was wholly unnecessary. “Doctor Langdon.” 

“Nurse Evans.” He returned, adding to the chill by the Hub. Dana made her departure after responding with a dry, huffed out laugh. Princess and Perlah looked between the two doctors left, then came the rapid fire Tagolog. Their most annoyingly foolproof way to gossip about everyone. He chose to ignore it, his fist wrapping twice on the Hub before he beckoned Mel to start walking with him.  

“... She was acting weird, right?” Mel asked, always just a step behind. 

“Sure.” Frank wasn’t in the mood to talk about it, or let Mel in on his theory. For some reason, that felt embarrassing. It might open him up to her laughing at the thought, and for some reason, he could see that one stinging. He fully turned towards her, walking backwards towards the door to their next visit. “Thirty-five on UTI.” 

That brought the kind of laughter he could stomach right now. “Deal, but it’s stones.” 

It was, in fact, stones. They were going to get back to Dillon, but the nursing home crowd started early today. They were lucky the first time, able to bring a 78 year old back from death's door. Mel cheered at the sound of a stable heart beat, giving out high fives all around. Before, nobody knew how to react to her little celebrations. Now everyone seemed used to it, more receptive to returning her high five and reveling in the save with her. 

“Amazing work, everyone!” She said as Javadi's palm slapped against hers. “That’s another life saved!”

She reminded him of an enthusiastic camp counselor. Or a gold retriever. He should find it grating, but she was so obviously genuine, so earnest in her approach to life, that he could not find it in him. They shouldn’t work as well as they do together. Something about them just worked. 

Further down the tunnel they went, Mel secured a potential ruptured gallbladder, Frank got them a kid who stuck a worm up his nose. Some time was taken for a closer look at Dillon’s chart. In addition to a recent spike in illnesses, they found a downward trend in his weight. It was sad to see, but not the most uncommon occurrence these days. The job market in Pittsburgh was in an ever going downward spiral, while the cost of living raised with each new tariff and executive decision. The uninsured people of the city, much like Dillon’s mom, were resorting to expensive ER and urgent care visits to seek treatment. As of a few weeks ago, Frank heard that one of the few free clinics within Allegheny County was shutting down due to funding cuts. It was a terrifying new reality for most young adults, and a harrowing reminder of the 2008 recession. The fear must have shown on his face as Frank’s eyes scanned down the record, pulled up on a computer screen in the southern most desk pod. 

“Are you okay?” Mel asked him for the second time today. 

“Is anyone, these days? This poor kid.” Frank murmured. “How would you approach this, Doctor King?” 

“I think we should send Kiara their way, but gently. McKay would be a real help with this one.” Mel frowned, lifting her glasses to rub her eyes. She sat at the desk in a swivel stool, Frank standing above him. “I’m not the best with these situations. I can be… to the point.” 

“Me, too." He remembered the dead worms from all those months ago and grimaced. This was choppy waters for the both of them. “So the game plan, let’s try to relate to the mom. Times are hard for everyone, and we want her to feel secure in taking any help from us.” 

“We should also ask for clarity on the situation. This isn’t the type of parent to intentionally neglect her son, so we have to ask the questions in a way that withholds judgement.” Mel said. “I… might be able to take the lead on this one. I noticed no ring on the left hand. Maybe they’re on their own?” 

“I can only imagine the pressure of that.” Frank didn’t have the best living situation, at the moment, but at least both him and Abby worked. They were both present in their child’s life. 

“I don’t have to imagine it.” Mel stood, brushing past Frank. “C’mon. Trust me on this one.” 

The roles reversed, it was now Frank following after Mel’s steps. It didn’t hurt his pride, quite the opposite. Although Mel didn’t have full confidence in her bedside manner, he’d seen her work magic before. She stopped short of the door, took a deep breath, and looked back at Frank for some last minute encouragement. 

“I’m right here beside you, we can do this.” He said, picking up on her nervousness. “You’ll be fine, King.” 

“And if we can’t, we grab McKay before we discharge, make it all hands on deck.” 

“Yeah.” 

Mel nodded, took another deep breath, and walked into the room. She greeted the patient first and foremost. “Hey, Dillon, how are we feeling now?” 

“I’m way better. I think I’m ready to go home, you guys don’t have my shows.” He complained. 

Mel laughed, high and light. “Sorry about that. We’re working hard to get you back home, though, okay?” 

“Okay.” He said. 

“Hey, so um,” She turned her body to pull Dillon’s mom into the conversation. “I’m going to steal your mom away for a few minutes. We won’t be long, though. Is that alright?” 

“Yeah, I guess.” He said. “Can I have another jello cup, too?”

“Oh, yeah. I can make that happen.” Mel looked over her shoulder at Frank, and he gave her a small nod. You’re doing great. Keep going. “Charlotte, can we talk outside, please?” 

Charlotte- good on Mel for learning her name when Frank never bothered to until now- stood up from her chair. “Of course.” 

The three adults walked out of the room, Frank holding the door open for the two women before shutting it behind them. A part of him wanted to cut in, take over for Mel. No, he wasn’t the most friendly of doctors, but he did have more experience with this part than her. But Mel told him to follow her lead, and he trusted her. Both he and Charlotte looked at her expectantly. It’s okay. You can do it. 

“Okay, so… we were taking a look at Dillon’s chart, his medical history, in particular.” Mel began. “We noticed that he’s been getting sick a lot lately. We ran a few extra tests, as well, to rule out any autoimmune conditions. He’s otherwise perfectly healthy, save for the amount of times he’s been under our care in the past few months…” 

“I.. I know.” The mother’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I know what it looks like, but I do love Dillon. We’ve hit a rough patch.” 

“I see. We’ve also noticed that he’s losing weight. As Dillon’s doctor, I was hoping to learn more about the situation at home.” 

“Well… where we’re at right now isn’t great.” Charlotte admitted. “We had to move back in with my parents, recently. Um… Dillon’s father isn’t the nicest of men, so I had to get out. It's been harder getting him to eat, since then. He misses his dad.” 

Mel didn’t ask for clarity on the dad. It wasn’t necessary, potentially triggering bad memories for Charlotte. They could connect the dots. Instead she nodded slowly. “I understand, it sounds like that was a really difficult decision for you.” 

“Well, yes. Doug… he was well-insured, and he never harmed our boy, but…” Tears began to well up in her eyes. “My parents are both retired, their pension covers their mortgage and enough for them to get by. The job I have right now doesn’t have a lot of benefits, or rather, they kick in at management level. I’m sorry, I know what this looks like to you guys, but I do love my son very much.” 

“That was never a question in our minds, Charlotte. I promise.” And she meant it. “We know that you only want the best for him.” 

“Everyday, I wonder if I’m failing him. I wonder if I should have put up with Doug’s temper, you know? At least we’d have the money for his favorite foods, or a place that’s less crowded. My sister and her boyfriend have moved in as well.  He has to share a room with me. It’s just been so hard, lately.”

“I can assure you, Ms. Driscoll, nobody thinks you're failing him.” That name sounded so familiar to Frank. “You’re doing the best you can while you’re alone, and I commend you for it. My parents died young, and I’ve been taking care of my sister ever since. She has special needs, and I’m all she has. I understand the pressure to provide.” 

“You’re a doctor, I’m sure you make more than me.” Charlotte said. “You were smart to go to school.” 

“You know, yeah. It is a lot better now. Back in med school, though, I was exhausted. Your name tag… Target, right?” 

“Downtown. They have me manning the clothes section.” 

“I was a back of house runner.” Mel said. Frank kept her eyes trained on her, surprised to be learning so much about his colleague. Mel never got too deep into how she and Becca survived all these years. “Does the pay still suck?” 

This got a small laugh from Charlotte. “It’s the worst. Sorry to vent like this, I know you’re just here to treat Dillon. You probably don’t care.”

“Of course I care.” Mel said. “You might not want to hear it from me, but I get it, really, I do. We had to sell our parents’ house for a closet space of an apartment.”

“How did you get out of it?” Charlotte asked. 

“I did everything I could.” Mel said. “Target was the after school job, and then I ran food at a restaurant on the weekends. I saved up as much as I could, and I took the extra help wherever I could. Um… My school had some decent low-income assistance programs, as well.”

“Oh, I never know where to begin with all that…” 

“Oh, I know. The system is almost impossible to navigate alone.” Mel paused for a few seconds, thinking. “That’s why our hospital prides itself on our social workers. They’re… rockstars, really. I’ve watched them work magic.” 

“Really?”

“Oh yeah, Kiara is a godsend, she reminds me of my old social worker. When I took the help, I was able to get housing assistance. It took months, but eventually, they found a place where Becc- where my sister could have her own room.”

Driscoll. Where did Frank hear that name from? Dana was the one who brought their attention to this, and for some reason, he felt like she had a connection to the name.

“I bet that was nice for you, too.” 

“Yeah. We were sharing a bed before then. I love my sister but… she’s a kicker.” 

“So is Dillon.” Charlotte chuckled, but there was still so much pain in the woman’s eyes. “I’d love to have a bed to myself.” 

“If you’re comfortable, I can send Kiara your way before you leave. She’d be happy to help.” Mel offered. “Dillon might appreciate his own space, too. Kids are human like the rest of us, they get sick from stress, too. I can also ask about getting you on COBRA, see to it that you both get a primary care physician again.”

Charlotte looked back towards the room, through the window and back at her son. “...If it’s not too much trouble.” 

Mel smiled. It was a rare time when Frank could match it. This was why he had utmost faith in her on this one. She had a special kind of charm, a little awkward, but kind. Disarming. Amazing with kids. “It’s no trouble at all. Doctor Langdon, can you go find Kiara while I print out the discharge forms for them?”

“Absolutely, Doctor King.” He patted her shoulder, a silent means of praise. I knew you could do it. I’m so proud of you. He nodded towards Charlotte. “I hope things start looking up for you, Ms. Driscoll. Everyone here loves your son. You seem like an amazing mother, it’s our pleasure to help you two out.” 

He didn’t mean to make the poor woman start crying, but that was exactly what his words did. The tears finally spilled over. She turned back to the both of them, pulling Mel into a sudden hug. “Thank you… thank you so much.”

“Oh! Uh-” Mel froze up for a second, then returned the hug. “You are very welcome.”

After giving Dillon’s mom the spark of hope she likely needed that day, and sending Kiara the important details of the situation, they shared a high five at the Hub. 

“That was amazing, thank you!” Mel shrilled, her body unable to contain the excitement as she bounced on her feet. 

“Thank me? I didn’t do anything.” 

“You trusted me, and you stuck by me. That’s more help than you know.” Mel’s face softened a second. “You’re a good guy when you want to be, Doctor Langdon. I really did mean that.” 

Oh. He cursed his face for betraying him, red blush raising the overall temperature of the room. “Just don’t go around telling people that. I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Whatever you say, you’re still mostly a cynical bastard.” She quipped. 

Before he could respond, maybe tell her to never compliment him like that again, or else he might die on the spot, she announced that she needed a small break after that one, and hopped off. Right. 

“So Ms. Driscoll is taking the help?” Dana asked from behind him, causing him to practically jump out of his skin. 

“All thanks to Doctor King.” He said. “She’s…” 

“...She’s what?” 

Frank turned to face the narrowed, accusing eyes of their charge nurse. “She’s getting better at approaching delicate situations. I’m impressed.” He said. 

“Yeah. Sure as hell didn’t get it from you.” 

“Why is that last name so familiar?” Frank decided it was the perfect time to change the subject. 

“Don’tcha remember? Doug Driscoll, the asshole that punched me, I’d bet my house that’s his ex-wife.” Dana began rifling through a small bag at her station, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. “Didn’t feel like the first time he hit a woman.” 

It all fell into place. Dana put this one on their radar on purpose. “Oh… Sorry, that day was…” 

“I know. Don’t sweat it, Frank.” It was the first time in a while she didn’t have an edge to her voice when speaking to him. “Just tell Mel I appreciate the help. I’m getting a smoke.” 

“In that case, you can tell her yourself. She ran out for some air.” 

“Swell.” Dana said. “And, um. Thanks to you, too.” 

“Why didn’t you go to McKay for this one?” He asked. 

“And have you bitching all day about me getting another doctor to cut in on your bed? No thanks.” She pocketed the pack and walked towards the ambulance bay. “Back to work, Langdon. Gloria demands happy patients and quick hands.” 

Once Mel reunited with him while he saw a landscaper with a massive face laceration, they determined who got the honors of stitching it up over a discreet rock-paper-scissors. Mel won, to her delight, and Robby went searching for more work. He watched Robby dance around the room to keep his distance, while Robby undoubtedly watched Frank dance around just about everyone else. Another bed turned. Another code in trauma, saved by Whittaker. The day became a blend of tearful families, patients both angry and grateful, and chart notes squished away in the margins, barely legible on the best of days. A cold coffee and a donut around noon. A verbal altercation in chairs, followed by discussing payment relief with a homeless man. McKay pointed out a spot of chocolate on his scrubs half past twelve. At one-fifteen, Robby’s stare could be felt from the pod closest to PDS as Frank checked out more pain medication for the kidney stones in seven. That stare could kill, if it wanted. It certainly didn’t hold back its accusations and judgements. 

And what of him getting meds for his patients? He was sick before, he was putting in the work to get better. How long would the scrutiny last before it set in that he was on the straight and narrow? When would it be enough? It took more than usual for Frank not to call him out at the moment. It wasn’t the best to re-establish contact with confrontation, as much as he felt Robby deserved it. Robby, Dana, Garcia, they all deserved it. That wasn’t just the sickness talking, either. If Mel could pick up on them treating him like an outsider, so could anyone. 

To the left, he could pull them all aside today and close that safe emotional distance long keeping him from letting his honest thoughts out. To the right, the entire staff already thought of him as trouble. Why give them more reason to? Why make a scene over this when everyone in the room felt like this difference in treatment was validated by his addiction? It would be seen as a temper tantrum, it would fuel the gossip machine that likely asked if he was ready to return. Useless. He was so goddamn useless in this whole situation. 

He kept his tongue until midday rounds, right after Robby and Mohan showed off just how buddy buddy they had become. 

“What can you tell us about this case, Doctor?” He asked, as the posse of interns and resident physicians crowded around the bed of a middle-aged man hooked up to oxygen.

“This is forty-five year old Carl Rodriguez, he came to us today with shortness of breath and a sharp pain in his chest. After ruling out anything coronary, Collins and myself did a history on him, and ordered a chest x-ray as soon as we found out that Carl’s a pack-a-day smoker. We found his bronchial tubes inflamed, as well as some cloudiness that could indicate excess mucus.”

“Have you come up with a diagnosis?” 

“Just about, we’re still waiting for the lab to get back to us on a nasal swab, to rule out anything transmissible, but early readings from a pulmonary function test show poor airflow into the lungs, we are leaning towards COPD.” 

“I would agree with you, ladies, nice work. Who here can tell me why Mohan and Collins are considering that diagnosis? Whittaker?” 

“Well… he smokes a pack a day. Spirometry shows little air going into the lungs. According to his charts, he’s been getting acute bronchitis diagnoses since his mid-thirties. He's a textbook case.” He stopped talking for a few seconds, only to grow anxious in the quiet room. “Uh. Am I missing anything?” 

“One thing. What do we always look for in the lungs? The state of the walls. Referring to the x-ray, we see tears in the anterior, proximal. And again on the other side. Okay… King.” Robby turned his focus on the doctor next to Frank. “What’s the treatment plan for COPD?

“Oh, uh. Without a cure, we can only help manage. I would write Carl up for a broncho inhaler, then send a referral for oxygen therapy. If we’re shown that he has an infection on top of the COPD, that might need antibiotics. Lastly, I’d talk to him about smoking cessation.”

“If your pretty face can’t convince me, I doubt anyone can, sweetheart.” Carl spoke through his mask. “Can I get this thing off me, Doc?” 

“No, you cannot. And for your own good, Mr. Rodriguez, I hope you at least consider quitting. Excellent work, Doctor Mohan.” Robby began to exit the hospital room, “I’ll leave you and Collins to your patient. McKay, do you have a case for us?” 

“I do.”

“Why don’t you lead us there?” He stopped at the door, motioning McKay forward as he turned back to Carl Rodriguez, forty-five. “You’re in the best hands here, sir. Doctor Mohan puts the rest of us to shame. Thank you for letting us barge in.” 

It could be all in his head, but Frank couldn’t shake the feeling that Robby was laying it on thick in front of him on purpose. Like a jilted lover with his new flame. It felt that petty, at least. The act did work on him. Every nice word Mohan's way used to be his, until he ruined it all. Rounds became a reminder of everything he lost, and just how little he deserved it back. 

McKay and Javadi shared one particularly gross cavity turned abscess, with a bacterial infection spreading to the jaw. 

“He must be getting his dental advice from that one percent dentist who never recommends anything.” Langdon dared to pipe up. The guy was under so much anesthetic, Frank may as well have recited the alphabet to him. Cassie said they were on a first name basis now. It was as good as any friendship, and friends like to banter, after all. 

“That’s enough, Doctor Langdon.” Robby deadpanned. Those who did laugh along stop at once, and suddenly, Frank could feel all eyes on him to watch him respond. 

“It’s a joke, Robby.” The words caught up to him before he had the time to reconsider them. Too late, may as well lean into it. “What, I can’t lighten the mood?” 

“Our patient is in listening distance, and not conscious enough to be in on the joke. He also happens to be in this state due to immense, long ignored pain. You can save your wisecracks for the breakroom.” 

“Jesus, man. I liked it better when you were ignoring me.” He wouldn’t be able to hold back, now, not even if he wanted to. 

“I liked it better when you didn’t interrupt rounds.” Robby shot back. “Are we going to have to step outside and talk about bedside manner?” 

“Come on, m-” 

“Furthermore, You do not address me as man, we aren’t bros, I’m your superior. You’ll address me as Doctor, or you shut up and let McKay talk.” 

“Oh, no, I don’t want my name in this one.” McKay put her hands up, taking a step back. “You two have your quarrel, I’m fine with a break.” 

“Is Gloria pestering you about patient satisfaction scores, again, or do you suddenly care because it's what your new golden child is best at?” Frank could feel Mel begin to stiffen, her arms coming up to cross around her chest. Something pulled at his chest and told him he should let this one go, but he feared he already took the spat too far. This was what he did best, anyway, right? Take a shaky foundation, and keep beating the dust from it. He will regret pressing the self-destruct button later. 

“Are you accusing me of favoritism, Doctor Langdon?” 

“Anyone with eyes can, Doctor Robinavitch.” Frank looked around the group, all too uncomfortable to meet his eye. Or too cowardly. Was he really the only one? “...When have any of you heard me talk during rounds, this entire time back? When am I not being watched like I'm some kind of criminal.”

“Nobody here is calling you a criminal, Frank.” Cassie said, an attempt to diffuse the tension.

“Really, McKay!? Really!” He laughed in disbelief. She sure knew when to run to Robby’s side when it suited her, huh? “Well, you sure do treat me differently. We’ve barely spoken for years, and now all of the sudden, I’m Frank. And you’re Cassie. Why is that?” 

“Doctor Langdon, that’s more than enough, you need to step outside now.” Robby began, but Frank was quick to cut him off. 

“You want me to shut up because it's true. I'm the liability on the team to you. You have eyes on me like a hawk, but you won't even say good morning. You’re waiting for me to fail, you can’t even pretend to respect me. But God forbid you ever look at your own biases, right?” 

“I said, THAT’S ENOUGH.” Robby roared over him. Mel’s hands went up to her ears, her breath hitching up. “Outside! I’ll find you as soon as I’m done.” 

“Whatever you say, Doctor. Thanks for the support, everyone.” Robby sneered, pushing past the rest towards the door. He never should have looked at Mel’s face, just as afraid and disappointed as before, ears covered with eyes that looked right through him and all his macho posturing. He couldn’t care less what Robby thought of him, in the moment, but she never failed to break his heart a little with one look. His tight face fell in response, but he was too uncomfortable to say anything. Or too cowardly. Take your pick. He turned away, walking out of the room. 

He waited five minutes outside the ambulance bay, and if this were any other job, he probably would've started walking home at around minute two. Him and Robby both knew that this wasn't just any job. This was Frank's only chance. How foolish could he be? Yelling at Robby in front of a patient, in front of everyone? As he started to cool down, the regret was fast to follow. Finally, he looked up and saw the approaching figure of his mentor, his jaw set and his eyes severe. 

"You got something to call me out on, then do it, but don't wait until rounds to get it out." He started, never giving the chance for Frank to respond. "You come back after months of zero contact, and you expect me to be the chill boss? That's your mistake." 

“Contact goes both ways, I’ve been busy.” Frank said. “You should have a little insight into that.” 

“When are you going to stop looking at that as a punishment? That wasn’t a punishment, that was an offer of help, one you never wanted to take.” Robby studied Frank for a long while before speaking again. He felt two feet tall. Useless. It was the truth. Frank didn’t accept help. Frank took help to save his career. He was helpless then, and in this moment, he realized that never changed. 

“But I did. I want to prove myself, Robby, I do.” He shook his head, in a rare instance where words seemed to fail him. “How can I do that when you don’t seem interested? I’m not a stranger to you.” 

“You became one. That day.” There wasn’t a bite to those words. If anything, Robby sounded heartbroken. “I put every ounce of my faith into you, and you betrayed it with what you did.”

“I was sick.” Frank sounded ten years younger. “Robby, I wasn’t thinking, okay? It was the disease, it made me desperate.” 

“I never cared that you were sick, that was never the issue. I could have handled it with just you being sick. Stealing off patients? Tampering with our medicine supply for free hits? That crossed the line.” Neither of them could look at one another. “How could you do that? How could you jeopardize our credibility like that? Your career?” 

“I don’t know.” Frank failed to push through the cracks in his voice, his face began to heat as tears prickled at his eye until they burned. “I don't know how I could explain it in a way that you would get it.”

Only his friends in a circle of chairs could get the full truth out, and only in ten minute long bits and pieces. Holding in the darkness was a heavy, impossible task, and he could feel cracks forming all over his skin, as if every bitter memory threatened to tear him apart unless they were freed from him. The first few times, it really was just an attempt to wean himself off, take an edge off the pain and the cravings. Only they would get why, in this moment, he wanted to run away from the situation and get his hands on anything that might numb the hurt. 

God forbid anyone see him like this, with his red cheeks and tears, completely vulnerable in front of a man who once made him feel limitless, who ripped that from him in a day, and now made him feel like a dog out in the rain. He never wanted to start this with a confrontation, but even that was just him avoiding the inevitable. Some big argument, him regressing into a scolded boy. If a fracture begins to heal wrong, all you can do is break and reset it. 

“I don't know if there is a way for me to get it… and I won’t be able to forgive you overnight.” 

“It’s been ten months worth of overnights. I feel like I’ve lost everyone who used to be close to me.” 

“You didn’t… you’re not easy to be around.” Robby sighed. “You’re right, I have been favoring other doctors over you. It’s not okay, I’m sorry, but you’re not easy to be around. I see you, and I feel like I failed you.” 

Failed him? That was new. All this time, he figured it was the other way around, that Robby felt like he was the only one failed in this situation. He had discussed this to his friends before, over lukewarm tea and trauma dumping. It was more than his back. It was those harrowing first few months after the pandemic hit, where corpses outnumbered patients and took up precious beds, where the amount of garb they wore drowned Frank and made him feel alien in his own body. They all endured it together, and he endured it under the mentoring of an incredible teacher. Every move Robby made, Frank fell into sync with like a shadow in the corner. If Robby said it was time to move on to the next critical, Frank was halfway to the bed. If Robby told them to hold it together after nonstop hours and zero breaks in their shared hell, powerless to something they didn’t understand, Frank fixed his automaton body towards the goal and went to work. If Robby buried it all away in the aftermath and refused to talk about it, why should Frank do anything else? He trusted his teacher’s every direction, never once was he warned of the fatigue that followed that limitless life. Two years after the worst of it, he suddenly couldn’t sleep. Inexplicable nightmares, the kind you forget the second you wake up, paid him a visit once a week. Conversations with Abby began to burn up into arguments. He learned to push his body and mind to its limit, and then some, but Robby never told him the way back. It took him a long time to accept that the information wasn’t withheld deliberately. As it would seem, Robby never learned how to come back from the edge, either. Frank grew as a doctor, and he suffered as a human being. As long as Robby didn’t want to talk, he didn’t talk. Frank never wanted to resent the man for it, but God, why could he never open his damn mouth and talk about it? 

The back was a catalyst, a means of access to an easier way to cope. The drugs were amazing, at first. The incredible high, the lightness to his bones. He had once again begun to feel limitless, the job was going back to its natural routine. Abby seemed to like him. He was living out his every wish, a fourth year resident cowboy of the ED, the prodigal son who would one day take Robby’s place. The comedowns could be hidden away as naps. They never lasted long, anyway. He could even appreciate the clarity it brought as he sobered up. At least, until another fight at home over his hours and her workload, then the cravings started to kick in. He would get upset, and he would crave that clear, happy feeling. He tried his best to space the hits out, he tried to be conscious of the inherent nature of chemical dependency. The less he took, the better. The highs would last longer. The clarity would be richer. He could only space it out for so long, before he caught himself double dipping an hour into the initial high. 

At some point, the clarity got lost in the comedowns. If Frank wasn’t high, he was agitated. The pain came back full force, as if he hadn’t healed at all. Worse of all, it was no longer just the back. His head stayed heavy and throbbing throughout long work days. His neck creaked like wood. Everything felt just a little out of focus, through burning red eyes. The nightmares not only returned, but he swore they got worse. Some of them were memorable, often the recurring ones. He was right back at square one. These symptoms lasted a total of a week before he took matters into his own hands. Once he hit zero refills, he knew better than to turn to the illegal market, where pills were pressed with fentanyl and could kill him where he stood. It was either risk being spotted as drug seeking by one of his peers, or get creative. Every time he took a little off the top, he told himself he’d start weaning off it tomorrow. Next week. Soon. Soon. He told himself lie after lie to hold back the shame and embarrassment of this new low. Lies became scripture. Scripture required him to worship the mess he found himself in. Not once did he think to ask for help. He would rather risk it all than talk about it. He learned from the best. 

“I think I failed myself, I wouldn't give you too much credit. I did most of that on my own.” Their first real conversation in months, and all it did was make him bitter. “I'll go back to being out of your way.”

“I didn't say I needed that from you.” Robby rubbed his forehead, shaking his head. 

“Yeah, well that's what it sounds like.” Frank said, walking towards the entrance. “I'll shut up during rounds. I'll stay out of your way.” 

“Frank.” 

“I’ll be in the breakroom. Fifteen minutes, and I'll be good.”

When he did walk back into the ED, he made it to the breakroom with his face down. Everyone was staring, he was certain of it, but he didn’t want to prove it by looking back at them. He knew what they thought. Frank was just a loose cannon to them. Frank was hard to be around. Frank was a junkie and didn't belong in their high pressure field. Avoiding people completely was impossible, though, as he found McKay and Mel waiting for him inside the sparsely set up room. A few tables and chairs, a single wall of counter space, just big enough for a sink and a few appliances. Both women stood by the coffee machine, looking up from a conversation in lowered voices. 

“Doctor Langdon. Hey.” Mel managed out. “Are you feeling better?” 

Better is a very subjective word. “A little bit.”

The conversation died as soon as it began, so Frank took a seat on the floor, putting his knees close to his chest, his head hanging in his hands. 

“We can pick this up later, okay?” McKay said to Mel. “And you, Doctor Langdon… we will talk. Trust me on that.” 

Between the stern voice of Cassie McKay and Robby’s admission of failure, Frank wondered if it was better to just go home and call it a day. No more. He was at his limit with feeling like the Gilbert Grape of the emergency department. “I can’t wait.” He mumbled. 

Cassie took her leave, and the room belonged to him and Mel. She busied herself with the coffee maker and stood awkwardly as she waited for a single cup brew. Once her mug was filled, she hesitantly bent down next to Frank, taking the spot next to him. 

“Doctor Langdon, can I ask you a question?” 

“You just did.” He said, pulling his face up from his palms. “You can call me Langdon, you know. No need to add a doctor, I won’t get catty about it. We’re friends.” 

“We are?” Mel didn’t ask it in a mean way, and by the way her eyebrows set, Frank could tell she was genuinely confused by the sentiment. “I mean, yeah. We’re friendly, but I figured you were humoring me.” 

“Why would you think that?” Frank asked. 

“You… never gave a clear sign that it was anything but you humoring me. Friends tend to talk to one another, you know.” Frank studied her as she took a sip from her mug. Without her usual smile, the exhaustion of the job became more apparent. Something in her eyes looked perpetually lost, trying to examine a world that was often too much to truly comprehend. “Not that I would know. My one friend is my sister, and I struggle with changing that.” 

“You aren’t as unique as you feel. Some of my friends are court mandated to hang out with me.”

“They- what?”

“It's a joke. Group therapy. Very few of us are there by choice.”

“Oh.”

“... Sorry. What's your question?”

“Why do you never talk about that with me? I ask that as your friend.” Mel met his eyes. 

“Why would I do that to you?” the left side of his lips tugged upwards. “Why would you want me to do that?” 

“Why not? Do you think I can’t handle it?” Mel tilted her head. 

“I never said that-”

“Nobody ever says it. I’m not cynical, so that must mean I’m not serious, or I can’t handle anyone’s demons. They don’t have to say it.” Her insight wasn’t wrong, but Frank thought he was immune to this bias. Yet, wasn’t it him who decided she was too ‘good’ for his mess? As if that thought was broadcasted out loud to her, Mel continued. “Truthfully, I think I’m like this because I know what the other side of the extreme feels like, too. Dad was long gone before mom ever got sick. He died when I was still in high school. Things were alright until we got the cancer diagnosis. I spent my senior year taking care of my mom while everyone else did prom and graduation photos. I watched the woman I knew and loved get taken from me for two years. Then one day, I was alone, taking care of my sister at twenty. I had my own demons, my own struggles with self-doubt and isolation. I still do. I know I don’t have to prove anything, but I want you to understand, I’m more than Doctor Smiles and High Fives.”

“Where are you going with this?” That he was one of those people who looked down on her sensitivity? He didn’t think he was. Frank told her himself. They need people like her here. Although, he also told her that it was harder for people like her. He could see where that might come off as patronizing, in retrospect. “I take you seriously, King. I always have, I’m just protective.” 

“Why?”

“Because you’re my friend.” He repeated.

“I’m someone you enjoy being around. You don’t let me do the friend stuff. Are you going to let me be one or not?” The distance between them was mere inches, but it felt like miles. For a second, he had the intrusive thought to close it, then he came to his senses and caught up with reality. It wasn’t that kind of question to begin with, but it sure did stir up some emotions. When was the last time anyone asked to be his friend? Grade school? It was a formality most grew past as the mind developed into the social conventions of an adult. When was the last time he felt like he had a friend, a real one,  not a fellow lost soul in a folding chair with empathy to spare? In a question, she opened the door to an actual friend, in more than just name, and it only made him crave the closeness like a treat dangling above a dog’s nose. “I’m not going to understand your addiction. I’m fine with that. Still, that doesn’t mean I can’t be of some help to you.”

“What can you do for me that others haven’t already tried?” 

“I dunno. What do you want? I can listen. I can try to understand your point of view. I can tell you if you’re being ridiculous, like right now. Stop being so hard headed about this.” She never bossed him around quite like that, and he initially bristled at the feeling, but then came a surprising sense of relief. What he wanted, a less stubborn mentor with a little emotional availability, was exactly what she wanted of him. For the first time in a long while, Frank felt less alone. “What happened? How did it get so bad?” 

“I lost control.” He murmured, resisting his hesitancy to share. “After the worst of COVID, I carried this feeling of powerlessness. We'll never be able to save them all, but the amount of people I lost… the guilt made me doubt everything.” 

“You can’t feel too much guilt from that. Nobody knew what to do, you weren’t alone.” 

“I know. In a way, that made it worse. I didn’t have it as bad as some people. Robby lost Dr. Adamson. He was… he was like a father figure. Robby was the one who had to call it that day.” Frank tried to feel for his ring, but it still sat stashed away in his locker. “I didn’t have to do anything remotely close to that, and he was trying his best to keep it all together, I figured that was what I needed to do, too.” 

“Oh.” Mel looked down into her mug, then offered it to Frank. He was surprised by the gesture, she didn’t seem the type who liked sharing from the same cup, but he took it, stealing a sip of the coffee. She made it too sweet for his liking, but he wasn’t one to complain at the moment. “Yeah. That is different from losing just any patient.” 

“When I got put on the painkillers, I was in the perfect state of mind to become dependent on them. I didn’t want to say something to Robby that accidentally cut too deep. Sometimes, it felt like Abby would get too upset to hear about it, and she wasn’t on the front lines. She would never fully get the feeling. It was nice to have something that maybe didn’t get the poison out, but it did numb the pain.” He passed the mug back to Mel. “You know what I mean?” 

“...Actually, kinda.” Mel grimaced, her cheeks turning red. “Not an addiction, per se, but not having anywhere to put the pain, yes. Numbing it. When we lost our mom, the last thing I wanted to do was make Becca carry my pain. We, uh, we played a lot of Mario Party during that time. I almost flunked the semester, actually.”

“...Because you were too busy playing Mario Party.” 

Mel laughed, rolling his eyes. “I told you I only kinda got it. I know, it’s not the same at all.”

“I dunno, some of those minigames are pretty addictive. Anything is a vice, if you use it incorrectly enough.” He lightly ribbed her. “If you ever slip up again, I have a support group to recommend.” 

“Shut up.” She squirmed at the sudden touch, but she didn’t move away. “I wasn’t addicted so much as I was frozen. The grief didn’t begin when she died. When she started looking really sick, towards the end, that’s when it began. And then she left, and I was left behind with this mountain of grief that came pouring out when it was finally done. It froze me up inside. Sometimes, it felt like all I could do was stare at a screen, hit the dice, play the stupid minigames.” 

“Like it was an escape from the doom and gloom you spent so long in.” 

“Exactly. It was a break. And it kept Becca busy enough to let me have that break. When I started falling behind in classes, I was so embarrassed. How could I tell my professors that Mario Party was all I was capable of doing at the moment? If I spent too long away from the distraction, I’d start thinking about my mom all over again.” 

“How did you get out of that?” He asked. 

“I realized that people depended on me to heal, and I realized some of those same people always want to help wherever they can.” She finished off the coffee. “I look up to you. When you were away, I missed you. I’ve worked under great doctors, both here and the VA, but with you, something clicked. I felt like someone saw me as capable of anything, with the right guidance.” 

“I think you have your choice of mentors here, King, and I’m not one of them. It’s my job to teach you what I know, but I’m not someone to look up to.” 

“Why not?” 

The question made him laugh. Why not? Well, he was the guy on the floor, drinking from someone else’s coffee mug, instead of his actual job. That could be part of it. “I’m a fucking mess. I’m a textbook example of how not to survive emergency medicine.”

“Okay? And Robby isn’t? What makes you any worse than him? What makes Abbot’s roof time a less destructive way to cope? Mohan’s married to the job. McKay has a criminal record. Why are you a special type of mess, separate from them?” 

“I stole from patients to fuel an opiate addiction.”

“Great learning moment for me. Don’t get hooked on opiates. Thanks, teach.” 

“You need your head checked, King.” Somehow, that came out affectionate and sweet when he meant it to be cutting. “But you're welcome. DARE to say no, or whatever.” 

Then they were both on the floor laughing. How silly were they? Frank ruining his life, Mel thinking that made for a good teacher, how funny. It did help to be able to laugh at it, and he could trust that Mel would only laugh at him to his face. 

For a moment, they weren’t on the beige tiles of a hospital floor. They were two friends hanging out with no particular goal in mind. That was never going to last forever, but Frank loathed to hear someone coming into the breakroom, anyway. How dare they interrupt this moment of peace? 

“Mel, I have someone asking to talk with you, your kidney stone girl’s husband, I think.” Dana said, her head poking through the door. “...What the hell are you two doing down there?” 

“I don’t know, he sat down first.” Mel scrambled up, smoothing out her scrubs. “You’ll have to ask him.” 

“Floor time.” He said like anyone could figure that out. 

“Get up. You’re with me on this one.” Mel held out her hand for him. He took it and pulled himself up. 

“He’ll meet you out there, honey.” Dana said, eyes darting between the two for a flicker before landing squarely on Frank. Ice cold and judging, that stare. It was more than enough for Frank to realize they were still holding hands, and quickly correct it. “I need to talk to you, real quick.” 

“Oh. Okay, sure. I’ll see you out there, then, Langdon.” Mel said, discarding her mug into the sink. “I’ll get that later, okay?” 

“You’re fine, honey. I can take care of it. Go.” Dana stepped fully through the door, leaving it open for Mel to slip right by her. When the door closed, she didn’t immediately start talking. Instead, she went to the sink and started to wash the lone mug sitting in it. It wasn’t until all the soap was rinsed off and it was placed on a drying rack. “Doctor King is a good girl.” 

This room was starting to feel like his personal office. How many other people wanted a serious meeting with him today? Apparently, he has all the time in the world. “She’s one of our best. Why are you telling me?”

“She’s a good girl, Frank. You better be keeping it professional.” 

“Exc- wow. That’s presumptuous of you.” He knew it. Of course this is what she wanted to talk about. “I have a wife, Dana.” 

She laughed, a hand on her hip as she whipped her head up towards Frank. “When’s that ever stopped a man? I’m not worried about you developing real feelings for her, I’m way more concerned about the reverse. And you better not take advantage of that.” 

“Jesus, why would you say something like that!? I’m not- that hasn’t been a thought in my mind.” Which was sort of the truth. Except for when his mind went there, because he could tell Dana’s mind was going there. Or just now, but that was an intrusive thought. Those happen all the time, he’d be an idiot to let any of them carry much weight. It was barely a thought. Dana started it. 

“You don’t wear your ring anymore, why is that?”

“... we separated some months ago.” 

“Okay, so let me paint the picture, here. You’re separated from your wife, now you’re a sad, weird guy living in a bachelor pad in his thirties, and you’re lonely-” Dana began.

“None of that is fair-”

‘-you’re lonely, anyone would be! You only get to see the kid on weekends, you’re sick of waking up to an empty apartment, you’re bored and you miss having something to do, but you know better to break sobriety, and, a really nice girl at work just happens to think the absolute best of you, even after consistently making a fool out of yourself-” 

“-You’re reading it completely wrong-”

“-I’m telling you to be careful, for everyone’s sake. You’re too fresh out of the program, and separated ain’t a total loss. You want it to be read right? Stop hiding in the breakroom, laughing on the floor with her.” 

Just as he was sure the redness from crying had gone down, here comes Dana to piss him off and bring it right back. “She just sat down with me. And how is this not also offensive to Doctor King? She’s a grown woman, I’m not tricking her into being nice to me. She has agency.” 

“Do you talk to her about your wife?” 

“No-”

“Maybe you should start. Let her know there’s no chance now, so she can start saving donuts for someone who is available.” 

“You’re out of line. Mel is just a nice person.” He took a step back, feeling cornered. It wasn’t as if Dana was outright accusing him, but the warning came with that implication. And he wouldn’t! That would only add to the disaster of his precarious career, hanging in the balance of a man who openly admitted that it’s hard to be near Frank. He took the kindness where he could get it, and Dana was wrong for twisting it any other way. 

“She never learned my breakfast order, Frank. She is nice, but she’s nicer to you. I’m not saying she’s pursuing you, but she has a little crush. You’re responsible for how you interact with her, so don’t get her damn hopes up.”

“Mel doesn’t have a crush on me, she just happens to think I’m a great teacher. She said we click well, she- she looks up to me.”

“Do you ever hear yourself when you talk?” Dana chuckled. “Take it as a compliment, you’re still the hot, young thing around here, scandals and moodswings be damned.”

“Now you’re trying to be cruel.” 

“I’m trying to help you avoid an added heap of trouble around here. You’re already under the microscope, kid. Focus on that, and set your boundaries with her, now. She’ll only appreciate you more for it, in the long run.” 

“Dana. Stay out of this one, you got it all wrong.” He needed to escape this before she started scaring him. There was no crush on him, the entire idea was preposterous. For all he knew, she was in a relationship and smart enough to never discuss it with anyone at work. “Not to interrupt your delusions, but don’t we have jobs to do?” 

“I dunno, floor boy. Why don’t you go out there and check? I wanna snack.” Above the counter space, she opened up a cabinet. “And stop eating all the Utz chips!” 

Just the exit he needed. He threw a hammed up salute Dana’s way. “Yes, Ma’m, right away, Ma’am.” 

This job was officially breaking her, she must have snapped at some point while he was away, and this was the fractured remnants of the nurse he once knew. After everything that happened this year, in what world would he further jeopardize his standing? It was such an invasive, ridiculous conversation, he struggled to get back into the tunnel. What did he need to do next? He was kicked off rounds, the shift was winding down for the day without anything too spectacular, what else did he need to attend to? Who was there to move him the right direction?

Stones in seven. That was it. After wandering around near the Hub, he found his footing towards the room. Mel was likely done speaking with the husband. He walked through the door to find her, they met eyes from across the room, and everything clicked back into place. 

“Took you long enough.” Mel got up from the stool next to the patient’s bed and walked over, and he forgot about Dana. A new face in the husband, a younger man wearing a navy blue polo, stayed close to the bed, his focus unwavering from the woman in bed. “I was just finishing up, and April here was telling me all about how she met Luke. They’re both members of a country club towards Dormont. A lot of golf talk.”

Something in the slight lift of her voice tipped Frank off that she was grateful for the diversion. “Oh, how interesting.” He responded in kind. 

“She also passed a stone! One of three.” 

“I think that was worse than childbirth,” April said. “Tell me the other two are gonna be easier.” 

“Well, I dunno about that. Each one looked around the size of a dime on the CT. Not the largest I’ve ever seen, but impressive.” Langdon leaned over Mel to look at the chart in her hands. “But you being able to pass one is real hopeful. Beats the alternatives.” 

“What’s the alternative?”

“Good question.” Frank looked up from the chart. Perhaps it was a decision fueled by spite, one to not only prove Dana wrong about her assumptions, but to show that if anything, Doctor King wanted a mentor. Not a lover. He could prove to be the best damn mentor she ever had, and this relationship never needed outside interference, or the scrutiny. “Doctor King, I’d hate to steal your spotlight. What alternative treatment would we use in this case?” 

“In this case, given how deep inside the kidney they looked on screen and their not-too-big size, electrotherapy would be moot, and a nephrolithotomy too invasive. I’d call for a ureteroscopy.” 

“Good.”

“What’s… that?” 

Frank motioned to Mel, a silent signal to answer the question on her own. She frowned at him, letting him know that it would take more than pimping her to impress her. “What? Half of it is clear communication of potential courses of treatment.” 

“You’re the worst.” She said. In response, he put a hand to his chest in mock pain. “A urethroscopy is a procedure that involves taking a lit scope up through your urethra, locating the stones with a camera, and extracting them using a basket catch method.” 

“So. Sticking something up there, and probing it out.” April’s husband, Luke, asked. 

April squirmed in her bed. “Okay, yeah. Let’s pass these things the old fashioned way.” 

“That’s at least what we’re going to try for now. Your IV bag is looking a little low, so we’ll switch that out for you, as well.” Mel still looked towards Frank expectantly. 

“Nice work, King.”

She smiled, and he noticed that the praise relaxed her, her shoulders lowering like they were tense, the line in her forehead smoothed down, a fondness in her eyes. He never noticed the freckle on her cheek, a tiny beauty spot. Dana’s warning came creeping back to the edges of his mind. I’m not saying she’s pursuing you, but she has a little crush. “Thank you, Doctor Langdon.” 

“Yup.” 

No. He was overthinking it. He was letting some mad woman get into his head. She went about changing out the clear bag hooked up to April’s IV. Frank existed in an awkward limbo, unsure if he was free to leave and pick up a new patient, or if Mel expected a quiz on the best cocktails for dealing with stone pain. Of course she knew the answers to that. “I’m gonna, uhh… I’ll be out and about. I’ll meet you out there.” 

“Okay. Meet me out where?” 

“There.” 

“...That still isn’t a specific location.” 

He was already on his way out. “Yup.” 

The last couple hours of the day went without any other incidents of Frank paying too much attention to small, emotional shifts on Mel’s face. After fumbling through his visit to stones in seven, the fear of becoming noticeably embarrassing drove him to look away as much as possible. If Mel did pick up on a change in behavior, she didn’t comment on it. Around four, a GSW came into trauma, a hunting accident that left a group of grown men arguing outside the room over who made the fateful shot into their buddy’s shoulder. Garcia was happy for something interesting to come up to the OR once they stabilized the patient and found no exit wound, the bullet stuck in what was definitely a mess of a shattered humerus. 

“I find nothing humerus about this, actually.” Mel said as they rolled the cot over to the elevators. 

“Boo.” He said blandly. “Did you get that one from Mehta? Although, he is usually funny.” 

“At least I have a sense of humor outside of petty griping and cynicism.” She pushed the EKG behind the rest of the team. Frank turned around for a brief moment, his mouth agape. 

“Wow, Doctor King, you’ve been spicy today. You say that like I’ve never once made you laugh.” 

“The jokes at your own expense are pretty spot on, anything else? Stick to your day job, Langdon.” 

“You’re killing me. I’m hurt. Wounded, even.” 

“Geez, looks like I’ve been replaced.” Garcia cut in, an edge of genuine irritation behind the jab as she led the cot to a stop near the elevators, pressing the up call button. “Since when did VA Barbie get as mean as ER Ken?” 

“Is that what they’re calling me behind my back?” Mel shot back before Frank had the chance to ask something about the insinuation behind Ken and Barbie. “Still more of a compliment than some of the things they call you down here.” 

Since when did Mel get in on trash talking? 

“Tough bitch? Can’t get offended by the truth, King.” The doors opened, Garcia initiated the push inside. “This is my bus. Have fun with your booboos, basement dwellers.”

“We’re the ones keeping their pulses steady for you butchers. You’re welcome, by the way.” Frank threw in, hoping the real message was clear: we’re cool, right? We don’t need to hug it out over the last time? 

She studied him from the back of the elevator, then smiled. “Little Miss Sunshine must be doing something to get you back to normal. I’d be jealous, if I had a soul.” 

The doors closed between them before Frank could read into the response further. 

Around five, A cardiac, the sniffles, a severe rash down the back of a Pitt student. April pushed out her final stone and got a round of applause from Mel. She rewarded herself with a ‘pep song break,’ which gave Frank the time to process through the building pile of paperwork. Charts need finished. Beds need flipped and refilled. Someone lost a tooth during a tailgate brawl over a disagreement about Aaron Rodger’s politics. Princess was emboldened to ask him if there were any cute guys in SMART. 

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” 

“I could fix them.” 

Whittaker bet Mohan that Javadi would fall asleep at one of the pod desks today. Robby… stuck to the background after their latest spat by the ambulances. That was a bit odd, not feeling his watchful gaze on the hairs of his neck. McKay tossed Junior Mints in the air and caught them in her mouth to the amusement of a nine year old with strep. Dana took a total of four smoke breaks. Evening rounds at 5:30, where the passing of the torch commenced, Robby let Abbot do most of the leading. At one point, Santos and him met eyes. She looked away as soon as it happened, and he did, too. He didn’t quite know what to say to her, yet, nor did he know how to feel about her. He was still angry, and he might always have a chip on his shoulder. He knew they were never going to friends, but nine months of ruminating did force him to accept that they were similar people. Her sharp tongue and cherrypicking was not unlike his own. Her stupidity and issues with authority reminded him of a younger Frank who thought he was God’s gift to this hospital. He had to admit that the things he didn’t always like about himself felt magnified next to her, and maybe working different shifts was for the best. Still, a part of him wanted to talk about it. There was no good opportunity to broach the subject, no way of knowing how she would react. It wasn’t a good idea, and it was close to impossible, anyway. This left him with so much he wished he knew how to say to her. Fuck you for blowing up my life, but thank you for saving it. There was no clean way to get that out, so maybe it was better left unsaid. 

“...Our day shift did some incredible work today. Robby here tells me you had a lot of close calls turned into saves.” Abbot finished at the end of rounds. “We’ll take it from here, good work, crew, and have a good night.” 

With that, the class was dismissed. Frank shuffled his way to the locker rooms, a tired daze coming over him. The adrenaline of the day pushed him to the very last moment, and now he could feel the ever present ache in his back and the heaviness in his arms. His throat was sore from talking all day, and a glance in the mirror by the sinks gave away bloodshot eyes. He still couldn’t stand to look at himself for more than a second. It wasn’t easy to face your own worst enemy. Frank slipped the ring back onto his finger and walked out, making his way for the exit. 

At the bus stop, he kept his mind busy with the twisting ring. Back and forth, the mechanism clicking subtly against his finger. The PRT was rarely a reliable means of transportation, but it was cheaper than gas. Who enjoyed driving on the pothole riddled Pittsburgh roads, anyway? Not many people texted as of recently, but he dared to check his phone, anyway. There wasn’t too much of note, as he scrolled through email and app updater notifications. As he scrolled towards the bottom of the list, a new text bubble slid into view with a chime. 

McKay: I see you, you greasy looking skunk. 

McKay: Turn around and face my wrath. 

Jesus Christ. He rolled his eyes and looked behind him to see an approaching Cassie KcKay, securing her phone back into a small saddle bag. “Hey, are you done acting insane for the day?” 

“I’m starting to think you’re a little obsessed with me.” He called back. “You don’t have to bully me, just ask me out for drinks.” 

She caught up with him, a cutting glower of a woman definitely not in the mood for his humor, tonight. “I don’t drink, asshole. And neither do you, I would hope.” 

“If I told you I had the occasional beer, would you clutch your pearls?” 

“I’d have a healthy level of concern, cross-dependency is an easy trap to fall into.” 

“That’s not very self-management friendly of you. Beer wouldn’t be strong enough to impress me much, anyway. What do you want, my bus is here in five minutes.” 

“Why are you such an asshole to anyone who gives you mild pushback?” She asked. “Whatever that was during rounds, it was out of line. I never once treated you like a criminal.” 

“You’re pushy. You’re trying to cut yourself into a situation you think you get.” His ring twists became short and abrupt.

“I think I get it.” She huffed out a laugh. “That might be the most insulting thing you’ve ever said to me, Frank.” 

“We have different situations. I’m dealing with mine fine without the extra help. You should know how strong you’re coming off, because it’s not as helpful as you think.” 

“Or you’re too proud to accept any help at all.” 

“I don’t want to argue with you, Cassie. I appreciate the concern, but it’s a lot.” He sighed, abandoning the ring to bring his hand up to the back of his head. “I’d love it if you tried to simply treat me like a person, not a project you need to take responsibility over.” 

“You can’t stop me from caring completely, Frank, you’d be surprised to know that not everyone is waiting for you to fail. Most of us are rooting for you. I’ll adjust my approach, but you’re not getting away with doing this alone.” Cassie hummed under her breath. “Screw your bus, I can drive you home, okay? 

“Why?” 

“So you aren’t alone on a bus, fiddling with your hands for the next thirty minutes. I’m no Mel, but I’m genuinely trying to be your friend.” 

“Why?” 

“Because it’s what I would have wanted when I was freshly sober. Ask me why one more time, and I’ll break that annoyingly perfect jaw of yours.” 

Frank smiled. No, she was no Mel, but she kept it very real. He could appreciate it, if she can forgive his last outburst. It will likely happen again. “Flattery gets you everywhere, McKay. Fine.” 

“Great, c’mon.” 

The aggression behind her help was actually kind of funny, right now. He shook his head and followed after her. “Can we pick up some Flavors on the way? I’ll pay for your taco.” 

Cassie groaned. “You’re paying for Harrison’s dinner, too, but fiiine.” 

At the end of the day, he could have worse friends. He jogged to keep up with the fiery mom. To the left, people close to him tended to get hurt by his hand alone. To the right, Cassie McKay was no regular somebody, and she seemed happy to call him out on his bullshit.