Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Langdon stands outside of the Pitt’s medical bay for a very long time. His feet are rooted to the ground like the roots in the dirt crept through the cement and strung around his shoes. If he blinks, the ghost of Robby’s body crosses his vision.

Yet, through the buzzing noise in his head and flashing in-and-out blur blocking his vision, he sees that Robby isn’t there anymore. He isn’t coming back for him.
The whoosh of the door brings Langdon back to the world. A thin slice of hope whirls his shoulders around. The desperate and greedy shock in his body vanishes as a nurse walks out, pack of cigarettes in one hand and lighter in the other.

The taste on his tongue is bitter and warm. Like the coating of a pill he couldn’t swallow. He hasn’t tasted disappointment in a long time. He's become so accustomed to being the snappy senior resident—Robby’s best guy.

Goddamn Robby. 

Langdon pushes off the ground and marches inside. His mind flies as he gathers the rest of his items. Leaves his kids’ pictures in the lockers.

He’ll be back. There’s still time.

For now, though, he needs to go home. Take a shower and let the water wash over how much of a clusterfuck of a day it’s been. Maybe if he scrubs hard enough, he can peel away at his skin all the way down to the hypodermis. Show Robby who he really is deep down. That this is all just a misunderstanding.

A bad dream that they’ll laugh about once they wake up.

Tanner pleads for a bedtime story. His tugging at his shirt is insistent, but damn, does it work. He lets Tanner curl up into his chest. His son's even breaths soothe the hammering of his heart as he stumbles through Where the Wild Things Are. Charlotte’s already clonked out in her bed in the other room, so he decides to call it a night.

As Langdon brushes his teeth, his eyes stray to Abby beside him. She’s bent close to the mirror, weaving floss between her teeth. Her hair is tied up in what she calls a ‘lazy bun.’

Langdon’s heart starts racing. The anticipation of…something settles in his core. Like gearing up for a marathon. Leaning forward, he holds her lower back and plants a kiss on her cheek. She smiles before swatting him away, dangling the glossy floss between pinched fingers.

~•~

Langdon spends the weekend with his kids. They’re delighted with his sudden desire to get out of the house. Abby keeps sending him dubious eyebrow raises. They haven’t gone out in a long time.

“It’s fine,” he says. “I haven’t had any time with them recently.”

The day starts at the park. The September breeze feels nice on his neck as he watches Tanner climb up the slide.

“Wrong way, buddy,” he calls from the benches.

Charlotte, her dusty brown hair dancing around in the air, seems fascinated with the sandbox. It’s a rather gross contraption, but if tossing around dirty sand particles makes her giggle, then so be it.

Tanner calls to him from the top of the playground set. Wants them to go down the slide together. Standing up, Langdon groans as pain cuts up his spine.

9:18 AM. Around now is when Langdon would usually take whatever pill was in his pocket. Damn.

He strains to plop Tanner on his lap. As they slink down the slide, his teeth tear at the skin of his bottom lip. He thinks Tanner is laughing, but he can’t hear over his own whimper.

~•~

“—ake up!”

A heavy hand rattles his shoulder. Langdon curls further into bed. Every movement is met with blazing pain. Heat thrums beneath his ribs.

“Frank! You’re going to be late.”

Some words tumble out of his mouth. He watches Abby in his peripheral vision raise an eyebrow. She shakes harder, bracelet clinking against her watch, and Langdon grits his teeth.

“Hey—”

A voice from somewhere howls, “Abby! I’m off!”

Warmth creeps out of his arm as Abby pulls away. “You could have just said that. I never know with you anymore.”

Langdon dives his head into the pillow. The feather count isn’t high enough to stop the high pitch pulsing in his ears.

“You don’t have to be so nasty.”

At least, that’s what he thinks she says. Three days of nearly overdosing on ibuprofen, and his sanity has begun to leak out of him. He blinks. His lashes flicker, wet and uncomfortable.

“Are you getting sick? I told you to not go out with Tanner so early.”

Langdon shakes his head. He’s not sick. There’s nothing wrong with him. He just needs some time. He’ll be back on his feet in no time, and prove Robby wrong.

He can still be good.

~•~

It’s Wednesday morning that Abby threatens to take their children from him.

“Why aren’t you at work?” Abby questions. She’s at the doorway of their bedroom. Outside. Her voice goes stern when she asks, “Frank, are you hiding something?”

“It’s not what you think.”

“I don’t know what to think. You never tell me anything!”

“There was a misunderstanding—”

“Were you fired?!”

“No—God, Abby. Nothing like that. Robby just thinks I—”

“Oh, here we go.”

Langdon, for the first time in hours, stands up. “What? What do you mean by that?”

“It’s always something about Robby. What happened now?”

He feels himself frown. “Robby didn’t do anything.”

“So, Robby didn’t do anything. You didn’t do anything. Nothing happened! You just haven’t been at work for days for no reason.”

Her voice echoes into the hallway. He tugs her close by arm, closing their door with a soft click.

“Robby thinks something that isn’t true.” Abby waits. She rotates her palm, signaling Langdon to hurry up. “He thinks I’m a drug addict.”

Abby’s mouth drops. “What?! Why would he think that?”

 I don’t know, he could say.

The pills belong to someone else.

Please don’t leave.

In the end, it’s his wordless response that drives her out the house. She carries a sleepy Charlotte to the car, Tanner in her other hand. They’re strapped in before she circles back to him.

“You need help, Frank,” Abby says.

“Great. You believe this too? I’m telling you, it’s bullshit—”

Abby heaves an exhale. Closes her eyes as she continues. Langdon feels her slipping from his fingers.

“There’s places that can get you through this, but I’m not letting you near Tanner and Charlotte until you do. You need to get help.”

He stands, watching the car drive around the corner. Langdon waits there until he can feel his skin scorching from the sun.

~•~

His phone is warm and heavy in his palm. Robby’s contact page is burned into his screen at this point.

He feels out of place with his jeans and jacket, but the darkness of the new moon night helps him blend in. Casts a shadow over his empty shell of a body.

The whoosh of the emergency bay doors is nearly silent under the crazy traffic of the city behind him. The emergency sign’s red glow highlights the broad shoulders leaving the building.

Langdon’s tongue is tacky, voice a whisper as he calls out. “Robby.”

Robby turns in his direction. For the smallest moment, his typical cool expression is plastered on his face. It feels like a normal night. Like Langdon hasn’t fucked up his life and Robby still thinks he’s the best.

But then, the reality of five days ago crashes, turning Robby’s mouth down and filling his eyes with a renewed anger.

“Thought I told you to go home, Frank.”

Sweat beads at his neck as he stumbles over his words. “I know. I messed up—”

“This shit again?”

Robby’s shoulder tilts away, like some indication that he’s about to step away. 

Langdon cannot live with that. 

He’ll accept anger, and disappointment, and any other negative emotion Robby wants to throw at him.

Anything. So long as he doesn’t leave.

“I need help.”

“You already know how to get help. The 30 day inpatient—”

“Yes! Yes, I’ll go.”

The haste creaking in his words must confuse Robby. He tilts his head, minutely, staring at Langdon. It hurts that he didn’t look this stumped when he found Langdon’s pills.

“All of it?”

“Yeah. Robby, I—” Langdon swallows, his breath leaving him in more waves and coming back in pathetic drips. “Whatever it takes. Just don’t….”

He can’t bring himself to say it. Shaking his head, Langdon risks a look up. Robby has turned fully to him, shoulders sagged. His bag is nearly falling off his arm.

“Alright.”

“Wait. I need to go home first.”

“Fine. Let’s go.”

The ride in Robby’s Wrangler is quiet. They’re each chewing on their own thoughts. He’s always wanted a chance inside Robby’s head. A mere glimpse at what the sun would look like up close. Something tells Langdon he doesn’t want to know what Robby’s thinking about now.

It hurts even more that the feeling is mutual. Past praises and leading questions plague his mind.

“What do you think, Doctor Langdon?”

“Doctor Langdon’s patient. Doctor Langdon’s call.”

“Nice save, Doctor Langdon.”

“Frank.”

His eyes blink open. The cold steps to his house are illuminated by the street lamp. He looks over to Robby’s face, dark and untouched by the light. The car is drowned in the night’s cruel blue.

“Get your things.”

Langdon feels his head nod. Palms the handle and swings the door open. Looks back at Robby who nods for him to go inside.

The AC blasts across his face as he opens his front door. The darkness covers the furniture like a thick layer of dust. It’s unfamiliar and not at all home.

Quick steps on the wooden floor echo from the hallway. Langdon's heart skips. Maybe one of his kids is going to be bounding around the corner to hug his legs.

He’s not expecting the goldendoodle puppy that races toward him instead.

“Seriously?” He mutters to himself. Crouched down, the puppy licks across his face. Langdon pushes a large palm into the puppy’s head, turning it away and wiping the line of saliva off his cheek. The puppy snuggles into his hand, petting itself.

Abby must have dropped the little thing off. Sure enough, he sees the letter stuck under a napkin holder on the kitchen table. His eyes skip every other word, reaches the bottom, then reads through the letter in its entirety.

There’s a pee pad by the backyard door that the puppy completely missed. He cleans up the area. Sprays all the chemical cleaners he owns and scrubs. Just to prolong the inevitable.

Or maybe he’s always been obsessive about the quality of his work. He’s not really sure who he is at the moment.

He fits his belongings into one messy cardboard box. Shoved his zip-up jacket and jeans and socks and tooth brush into one container, relying on hopes and delusions to make sure it doesn’t overflow.

As he jams more of his belongings into the single box, the corner of the cardboard snags his bracelet. His heart drops, and in the next second, the beads scatter across the ground. The sound of plastic rolling on the floor sends him into a panic.

His only tether to his family. To the thing that keeps him going. What makes him such a great man. It’s strewed all around him.

The golden doodle starts sniffing at the remains. Its mouth gnaws at one of the colorful beads, and Langdon has to scurry across the ground to pick the thing up.

He has to do something with this dog, so he sits the puppy on top of his belongings. A pair of socks drop, and Langdon’s in too much pain to bend down to pick them back up.

The letter is left on the table. He won’t let this be the last of it. He’s going to do this stupid program. See his kids again. Prove Abby wrong. Make Robby proud. 

His fingers reach for the light switch instinctively as he walks out. He lets his hand instead drift down to close the door, and he looks out for Robby’s car.

For a brief moment, Langdon’s already racing heart stutters to a stop. He can’t spot Robby’s car. But when he does, the sight is haunting. 

Robby is leaned back in his seat. Both hands are curled on his face, blocking his expression. Langdon has to brace himself to open the car door.

He tumbles into the car, tripping over nothing. The puppy curls into his neck, paws scratching at his collar. Robby jolts and looks over at the commotion.

They stare at each other. Langdon can’t see much through the tuft of golden curls, but he thinks this may be the first time he’s seen genuine shock on Robby’s face. His eyes are doe-shaped and mouth wide enough to showcase the flat of his tongue.

Langdon swallows as Robby stretches across the passenger seat to open the door.

“So…uhm.” Langdon begins.

“That for your kids?” Robby asks, moving back to his side of the car. There’s still an impression of Robby’s body in the space Langdon scoots into.

“Yeah. Guess Abby had different ideas.” 

Langdon stares at the puppy’s round eyes. It keeps looking around, lost and curious. It hits Langdon like a truck. “I don’t think Abby expected me to actually get admitted.”

They ride in silence for an hour and some change. Langdon watches the city disappear in his side mirror as Robby heads through more rural land.

Nearing midnight, Robby pulls over on a deserted road for the puppy to use the bathroom. The vertigo shakes up the nerves in Langdon’s stomach. The puppy sniffs the ground, and Langdon throws himself at a nearby bush in the opposite direction.

His throat constricts as his vile trickles out his mouth. It’s mostly murky liquid like dirty water. He hasn’t eaten all day.

Breathing becomes a struggle as he chokes on the stench of his stomach acid. Over his shoulder, he sees Robby watching him with indifference. Eyebrows raised, he appears almost pleased at Langdon’s sickness.

Puffing air, Langdon wipes at his mouth with the back of his shaky hand. The pain in his spine strikes again, and he curls back up.

The puppy trots over and attempts to stick its nose in his vomit. He swipes a hand down and carries the puppy like a package, tucked against his side.

Robby watches him buckle in, and it’s like pinpricks. A tattoo gun jutting in and out of his skin, burning him with permanent attention. Goosebumps tapping under his skin.

Or maybe it's the withdrawal symptoms finally setting in. Every sensation’s attacking his nerves now that he isn’t suppressing them. All he knows for a fact is that Robby’s recognition has always felt like the relief the pills brought.

But now, Robby’s eyes on him send him into a panic. He taps his foot against the passenger seat space. Maybe if he keeps going at the rate he’s at, he’ll catch the car on fire and explode them both.

“I’m fine,” Langdon says, in lieu of nothing. 

Robby sticks a palm to his socket, rubbing at the spot. He groans, deep and annoyed. A sound that sets Langdon on edge.

“First time seeing vomit? You’re so soft. It’s your own fault for wearing your heart on your sleeve.”

There’s a tired sigh from beside him. Langdon thinks he hears him mumble something under his breath, but the car starts again, and the slow drift into drive juggles the bare contents of his stomach again.

The rest of the ride is silent, but Langdon hears himself shuffling around as he fights against his body. He locks his focus on the road. If he looks anywhere else, the nausea churning in his esophagus may bubble over and out.

He’s so concentrated on sparing himself, maintaining his very last shred of dignity in front of Robby, that he doesn’t process Robby helping him check into the facility. Doesn’t realize he’s alone until he’s staring at the ceiling of his new room.

He doesn't remember the last thing he said to Robby. Can’t seem to recall the last thing Robby said to him.

A snivel escapes his mouth. That may have been the last time he would ever see Robby. The final moment in which Robby tolerated his presence, and he can’t fucking remember it because he was too zoned into his own pain and misery.

The silence mocks him.

He used to be a doctor. Successful. Busy. Always bouncing from room to room saving life after life.

Now, Langdon moves at a snail’s pace, unable to keep the shards of his own life from crumbling out of his hands. The humiliation is worse than the trembling, nauseous, restless energy that eats him alive.

~•~

He learns about the program throughout his first day. It’s some place called Mindful Bridge Recovery Center. Not the average, twelve-step recovery program he’s watched his own patients with addictions be admitted to.

There’s a mental health focus as well to the program, founded by a combination of behavioral management and physical therapy.

It may be a reason they prioritize seeing their therapist every day. He’s not sure how Robby found such a hippie-dippie place so quickly.

“You can call me Alanna,” his new therapist introduces.

He sweats through his first appointment, too busy fighting down the nausea to be amazed by her silky, jet black hair. Or to appreciate her kindness as she passes a tissue for him to dab away the chunk of his breakfast off his face.

“You’re a doctor, so I’m sure you understand. Everything you say or do is confidential unless you plan on harming yourself or another person.”

“Not sure I’m in any position to be doing any of that,” he huffs, unable to stop the anger from curling at the edge of his words.

When his vision isn’t coming in and out, his shaking hands fill the view in front of him. 

He’s lashing out at the hand that’s feeding him, but Alanna doesn’t seem to mind. She’s smiling and nodding like she’s not afraid of his bites.

And maybe that’s what he needs right now. A stable, fearless body to keep him in check. Someone that’s not frightened off by the worst of him.

He used to think maybe Robby could be that person. Now he’s sure that will never be the case.

~•~

The physical therapist reminds him of Dana. Older with short, chopped hair. Sarcastic but beaming with pride when Langdon does something right.

She starts off by poking all the places that hurt. Right now, through the bitching pain of withdrawal, that’s everywhere. Her manicured finger prods at his spine, and he hisses through his teeth.

They think he may have exacerbated the pain by ignoring the underlying problem. Using medication to dull the pain instead of treating it at the source.

All Langdon hears is that it's his fault he’s in this predicament, and well…maybe it is.

“How am I supposed to exercise if I can barely move my body without hurting?” Langdon seethes, curling away from her hand.

Stephanie, his new physical therapist, leans back, with both hands on her waist. “We’ll start you off slow. You used to run, yes? It should not take too long for you to see much progress.”

The idea of moving anywhere outside the four walls of his shared dorm has him groaning. Except, he remembers Robby’s face in the car, sharp shadows highlighting his steep frown.

Fuck Robby, Langdon thinks as an attendee escorts him to the main room. If this is just another test—another medical procedure or a new lecture to absorb, then so be it. He’ll pass with flying colors like always.

Robby won’t have the balls to accuse him of being an addict after his thirty day stint.

~•~

His resolve is quick to diminish after his ability to sleep. Langdon lasts nearly three restless days before his body shuts down for a brief two hour nap.

In the meantime, Langdon thinks he has cussed out about every employee on his floor through chattering teeth.

Complaints about the suffocating temperature go in one ear and out the other. Especially when twenty minutes later Langdon nearly throws his sweatshirt across the room in an attempt to cool off.

It’s just another side effect of the withdrawals, after all.

They redirect all his bitchings to the therapist. She smiles at him and talks, but he can’t listen. Says the insomnia will cure itself with time.

I know, he almost fusses. He’s a doctor. The process of withdrawal is all too familiar to him. Except this time, he’s joined hands with the damn thing. A one-on-one, first-hand lesson.

Langdon refutes her every attempt at praise. He can’t be proud of himself when he can hardly walk down the hallway without his leg spasming.

Especially not when the shame burns brighter than any physical injury.

This must have been how Robby saw me, Langdon thinks with a snide smile. Chucking up a good portion of his stomach on some unlit back roads, sweat prickling down his face, and promises that he doesn’t have any sort of problem.

She says it’s progress. That he is already on step four of five on some Transtheoretical Model. He’s accepted the fact that his behavior is dangerous and requires change. He’s taking steps to alter that behavior and is consistent in his intentions to succeed.

He’s not sure there will ever be a time where he can believe her, no matter what medical jargon she tries to use to tailor the lesson to him.

The exercises help. Even if he can’t accomplish a quarter of what he used to on the pills. Stephanie compliments his flexibility as she helps him push into another demanding butterfly stretch.

At the end of the week, he knocks out in his bed for the first time his entire stay. He even manages to sleep through his roommates' obnoxious snoring with visions of strong hands molding his body.

~•~

His flu-like sweats have been rearing their ugly head less and less. It allows Langdon to appreciate the things in life he didn’t know he missed. Like the sun soaking into his bones.

Fuck, he thinks, does it feel nice to bask in light.

The autumn air is brisk against his neck, but they don’t allow him outside for long. He lets the breeze send chills down his spine while he can. It’s been so long since he’s had a moment to stop. Let time flow past him instead of climbing from one demanding task to the next.

A husky groan from his side stirs Langdon out of his daydreaming. He looks over and sees his roommate slide into the chair beside him.

“Too fucking cold for this,” Donny grumbles. He’s leaned back like he’s just come home from his taxing cubicle job, beer in hand and game on the TV.

“Nah,” Langdon simply argues.

“Hey.”

Langdon looks over. Donny’s face is set strangely. He’s always appeared overly formal, back straight and expression tight, but now, he’s leaned close to Langdon like he’s got a secret to share.

“Know anyone who could get me something?”

His mouth drops open. Feels the crisp air suck the moisture from his tongue.

“We’re in rehab, Donny.”

“Yeah, but no one here’s buying this shit,” Donny says. He leans in close, a side of his lip curled up into a smirk. “I’m only here ‘cause my wife wants me. Said she’d turn me into the bar association if I didn’t.”

Langdon stares at the body in front of him. “You’ve got three little girls at home,” Langdon hears himself whisper.

Donny shrugs. “Daddy’s on a work trip. That ain’t nothing new. Man, you’re a goober.”

His eyes stare at the vacant spot Donny leaves as he tracks down another resident. For the first time in weeks, the anger boiling in his gut feels like his own.

~•~

Alanna congratulates him on his final day.

Langdon hesitates, but he forces himself to ask “am I on my own?”

“Do you want to be?”

He thinks about the month he spent at the facility. How he couldn’t stand without leaning against the wall or another attending. Stephanie’s strong hands kneading and pushing Langdon’s body to its peak. The kind and cruel words exchanged in Alanna’s office.

“I…I don’t know.”

Thankfully, Alanna must understand what he’s grasping at, even though he’s not entirely sure of his own desires. She places her work number into his cellphone.

“This goes straight to my office. We can meet however often you would like. All you need is to call.”

Langdon cranes his head down, feeling heat rise to his neck and face. Without a word, he nods and packs his belongings into his mother’s car. He can’t face his mom but can still feel her sensitive eyes on him.

~•~

After two days at his parents’ house, Langdon starts looking into apartments. He can’t stand their knitted eyebrows and sorrowful eyes as he takes his dinner to his room. Confining himself to his bedroom, surrounded by his high school track medals, is not the most ideal setting for recovery.

He’s not that self-destructive to want to stay here. Not anymore, anyway.

After eleven days, Langdon packs a few boxes into his beat up car. He moves into the first apartment that gives him a call. It’s dingy, in a sketchy area, and probably doesn’t have any working faucets, but it’s close enough to the hospital and within the price range. He needs to make this work.

After twenty days, a divorce notice, and an emergency furniture hunt, Langdon calls the number on the card Alanna had handed him.

As the dial rings, his argument with Abby over the phone replays in his head.

“I don’t know if I can trust you again, Frank.”

“Abby, I haven’t had anything in weeks—”

“You put yourself at risk. And me as well. I probably could have forgiven all of that, Frank. But you got Tanner and Charlotte involved.”

“I would never do anything to hurt them.”

“You already did.”

The line is quiet, a mechanical humming steady on her end. Langdon fiddles with the string of his zip-up hoodie.

“You know the worst part…the worst part is that you didn’t even come to me about this. I—I never even knew! You didn’t trust me to help you, or I was just too naive to see it. I mean, somehow, your boss knew a whole week before I even got a clue.”

Langdon can’t find the words to respond. Doesn’t know for once the right things to say, and he’s not sure Abby is expecting him to.

“I think it’s best if we take some time apart, Frank. I’ll have someone contact you.”

When the dial falls silent, Langdon’s breath holds in his throat. He may just throw up again.

“Office of Alanna Flores.”

“Alanna…it’s Frank Langdon.”

The line is silent, and Langdon’s finger hovers over the ‘end’ button until—

“I’m glad you called.”

~•~

It takes a few weeks, but Langdon works up the courage to attend a local Narcotics Anonymous meeting. ‘Local’ means a thirty minute drive, but if he takes the T, he can transit for half the time and jog for the other half.

Alanna’s encouraged him to maintain his exercise regimen. Routine is key, she had said. Alongside the fact his back pain has improved, it seems like a motivating plan to get him out. Beats sitting at home staring at the wall with no one to talk to and nothing to work towards.

Yet, Langdon sits down in the circle with a hammering heart and dry mouth and wishes he was back at his crusty apartment. His leg bobs up and down like a pecking hummingbird.

Tears of shame sting his eyes. He can’t get through his introduction. There’s some sounds coming out of him in a weak attempt to verbalize some variation of his name. He keeps his head down as the group moves onto the next person.

They don’t ask him to speak for the rest of the meeting. He floats through the old timer’s stories like he’s a ghost spectating the new family that’s just moved into his space.

There’s a distinct loneliness in his chest. He’s surrounded by people he’s never met before. He hears their tales, their messages and words of advice, but they pass through him.

At the end, he’s the first to stand up. The chair squeaks against the floor as he backs up. The exit calls his name, and he’s so close to slipping out until.

A thin hand clasps around his elbow. He turns around, about to shake off the touch, but his eyes move down to see an older gentleman staring back at him.

The grip on his arm tightens, and damnit, how does a seventy year old man have this much strength, before he releases Langdon.

“Leaving fast, aren’t you?”

“Uhh, yeah. I’ve got somewhere to be.”

“No, you don’t.”

Langdon glares, refusing to let his mouth drop at the audacious words. “Excuse me?”

“Come with me.” The older man exits the building and heads toward a maroon SUV.

Langdon lets the chilly air blast across his face as he steps outside. He could turn the opposite direction. Head home and never come back.

Except, he’s done stupider things in the name of curiosity, so he slides into the passenger side of the stranger’s car and watches the road run beneath them.

Twenty minutes later, they park outside a diner and sit across from each other at a booth. The older man orders a black coffee. Langdon mutters for some water.

“Gregory,” the older man says after the waiter walks away.

“I’m Lan—,” he stops. It’s a habit. “Frank’s fine.” Holds out a cautious hand, but Gregory waves it away.

The waiter is quick to come back with their drinks. Gregory nods before tearing open twelve packets of sugar.

“You should avoid having so much sugar,” Langdon says. It slips from his thoughts, and he’s surprised with himself. He’s usually better at controlling his mouth.

Everything he used to do was with well-timed intention. Now, he fumbles through interactions, questioning every move.

“What are you, a doctor?”

Langdon scoffs. “Yeah, I am.” His  interaction with Robby in the ambulance bay pops into his head, and the comment loses its humor.

“Well, you’re also an addict.”

His rebuttal is immediate. “No, I’m not.”

Gregory looks up at him for the first time since coming inside the diner. “You think just ‘cause you haven’t had any pills for a few weeks means you didn’t do any of the shit you did when you were on ‘em?”

He chews on some words that sound right. Tries to say that he hasn’t had anything for months. Or maybe that he needs to be clean for kids. Maybe mention how he’s a respected doctor just going through a rough patch.

Except, he’s not sure if that last statement is true. He has no idea if Robby will even take him back. Even though he followed the program and regimens with perfect obedience, Robby could still deny him. Take away the last thing he’s good at. What gave him respect. The only part of his life he had any control over.

“Fucking Robby,” Langdon drawls out into his palm. 

“We all got ugly sides of us,” Gregory says. He stirs what must be a thousand grains of sugar in his cup. “Don’t mean that's all of us.”

“I’m a doctor,” Langdon mumbles. “I’ve got two kids and a…wife. It’s not like I could….”

“You sure got a lotta labels,” Gregory grumbles into his cup. It’s piping hot, steam blocking any expression on his face.

“Well…yeah.” Langdon taps the side of his cup. The winter freeze is sharp against the window, but the condensation on his cup still wets his finger.

“Ever thought about just existing.”

Langdon frowns. What the fuck did I get into? “Yeah, sure,” he comments.

Gregory matches his glower, not impressed. “You’re so focused on being some big man for your family and friends and patients, that you got nothing left for yourself. Probably how you ended up here to begin with.”

Langdon opens his mouth to argue back. Defend his honor, because he is the man of his house. Provides for his family, and helps his parents on the weekends, and stays sharp on the medical literature to help any patient that crosses paths with him.

There’s a rabbit hole he goes down. Memories that trace back through the rehab facility. He sees flashes of Robby’s anger, disappointment, and shocking lack of surprise.

And there’s his time at the Pitt, hopping between patients and gabbing with other workers before going home exhausted to Abby and the kids.

At some point, in between all those recollections, an extra pill had slipped into Langdon’s hand. The pain was too unbearable to deny the call. And if he had nothing to do, maybe he would have waited it out.

But zipping back to the present, Langdon sees the past unfurl. Running his kids to school and keeping a roof above his family’s head. Staying alert for his patients and getting them the help they were begging for.

Being quick enough on his feet to get patients moving. So quick and impressive and smart that Robby notices his brilliance. Just to hear another job well done slip through his lips.

Langdon stares at his cup. For the first time in a while, the tremors in his legs have stopped. His entire body has entered a paralyzed state. He watches his body hover in the three dimensional space.

A finger plucks an ice cube out of his cup and chucks it at his forehead. The ice plops into his lap, staining the top of his denim pants.

“What the hell?” Langdon looks up to see Gregory frowning.

“Sorry, were you drinking that?”

“You’re kind of an asshole, man.”

Gregory breaks out into a grin. “Yeah, my grandkids say that to me a lot. Wish that meant they’d quit comin’ around to bug my ass every Sunday.”

Langdon picks up his cup. The cold exterior feels nice against his burning skin. Makes him feel a little bit more alive. He motions to take a sip before remembering wrinkly fingers dipped in his cup. His face sours, and Gregory laughs at him.

“Will you come back?” He asks.

“You’re not going to kidnap me again and drag me back?”

Gregory’s face narrows as he leans in close. “This whole thing works a lot better if you take responsibility for it. Doesn’t do so well if you only come by because some old man barks at you to do so.”

Langdon thinks back on what Alanna said. Something about intentions and conviction. He shrugs after a moment.

“I don’t have much else to do. Guess I could stop by.”

Gregory doesn’t buy his casual attitude, he can tell, but he must consider it a win. They drink in silence for a while, and Langdon watches the people walk outside.

Chapter Text

Langdon’s run his third lap around the park. It would be impressive if the path was long, but it’s a small thing located in the heart of the city. He’s just grateful to have a place to run at all.

Winters in Pittsburg linger in the air. Despite the leaves peaking out of the sticks, threatening to blossom, Langdon still sees his breath fog up his vision as he pants. He doesn’t mind. The chill feels great through his gear.

Slowing his pace to a walk, he decides to extend his journey to the main parts of the city. Maybe scroll on his phone in the cafe and avoid thinking about how much he misses his kids.

Gregory and Alanna have officially become the most obnoxious duo in his life despite the fact they have never met. Both, in their own ways, (Gregory using much stronger, vile language), have suggested he acknowledge thoughts that he is trying to ignore. Face the problem head on instead of burying it underneath a pile of work.

Much easier said than done. But he has no work to busy himself with, so he reluctantly agrees to their plan.

There’s a large chain bookstore that catches his attention. As he walks in, the scent of coffee hits him immediately. The inside is insulated, the heater’s warmth hugging his every side.

He browses the nonfiction shelves. His fingers skin some of the medical books before he bumps into another person.

“Oh, sorry about that,” the person says.

“No worries.”

Langdon looks up. He’s filled with almost instantaneous dread.

“Oh, Langdon! Hey.”

He steps back. It feels as though the shelves have grown, blocking him in. A lump clogs his throat. All trains of thought pause in their tracks, leaving Langdon with an empty head and mouth.

“Uhm, are you okay?” Doctor McKay steps closer, a hesitant hand floating in the air. “Robby had said you took a sick leave. I didn't think it was this bad.”

“I’m not sick,” Langdon swears. He tumbles over his words. He had forgotten people in the past still existed, and now one of them was standing in front of him. “Not like that.”

“I’d hope not. You do look pretty pale, though.” McKay narrows her eyes at him, and he can’t help but think she can see all the parts of him that he hates. “Let’s sit down somewhere and you can tell me all about it.”

“I wouldn’t want to…bother you on your day off,” Langdon mumbles, backpedaling.

McKay shakes her head. “Harrison’s doing a book report for class. Neither of us get any work done at home. Too many distractions, you know? So, we’re stuck here for a while.”

“Ahh,” Langdon says, uselessly. He watches McKay walk toward one of the two person tables by the window.

“Unless you got somewhere to be?”

His lips press together. He’s gotten real bad at lying, because he shakes his head and follows McKay.

She sets down her cup, leaning back in her chair. “Should I start with everything you’ve missed? I know it’s typical for an ER to be crazy, but it’s been a mess—”

“I’m an addict.”

Langdon feels like his heart is about to crawl up his throat. He doesn’t realize he’s admitted to it until the air between them gets thin. He can’t breath, can’t look up at McKay, can’t do fucking anything.

“Oh. Oh, wow,” she says.

“I’m not sick,” Langdon repeats. “It’s not like however Robby uhh…said it.”

“Yeah, Robby definitely didn’t mention that.”

Fucking Robby, Langdon thinks for the thousandth time. He can’t help the minute appreciation that creeps into his mind at the fact that it seems that Robby hasn’t spread his business.

Maybe it means there’s still a place for Langdon at the Pitt. That maybe, in the future, he can come back to Robby’s side. Be that good doctor Robby knows he can be.

Maybe this was all just a sick fever dream. He’ll wake up back on that September morning and realize it was a twisted joke his subconscious played on him.

But he knows that would never happen. He has already changed too much to go back. 

And there’s more change to come as well. For his kids, for Abby, for Robby. Maybe for his own wellbeing too, if he wants to to think about himself as someone who deserves a kinder version of himself.

“You’re in a program?” McKay asks. She’s quicker to the uptake than he thought she would be.

Not that McKay isn’t brilliant, but she’s the first person Langdon’s interacted with from the past. He was sure most people were going to tiptoe around the subject, like a bad ketchup stain on the collar of his shirt.

Langdon ends up spilling his story to her. About the past few months with Gregory, and Alanna. The physical therapy and occasional tinges of back pain that send him into a panic. 

How Robby didn’t seem surprised by his addiction, and how a goddamn newbie sniffed him out.

“Sometimes it just takes a fresh set of eyes to see something you kept denying.”

Langdon feels tears burning at his eyes. He really cannot afford another hit to his dignity. He turns away to the window. The snow outside has long turned to an ugly sludge of mud and dirt.

“That’s what happened to me,” McKay says into the void. Langdon peeks at her from the corner of his eye. She takes a casual sip of her drink, like she hadn't just confessed something that still constricts Langdon's throat shut. Like he's stuffed to the brim with shame and guilt just thinking about it. “I lost custody of Harrison when he was young. I mean real young. It took a long time, but I finally got help. I just passed ten years sober.”

He feels his mouth drop. “That’s…incredible. I don’t think I could do that.”

“Give yourself some grace,” Mckay says. “Look how far you’ve come already.”

Langdon sighs. His breath fogs up the window. If Charlotte were here, she’d poke at the glass to draw little figures.

“McKay,” Langdon says. “I miss my kids.”

“That’s the toughest part,” she says. There’s a sad smile on her lips.

“I missed Halloween, Christmas. Fuck, McKay, I even missed Tanner’s birthday, because I was puking in some facility hours away.”

“Never apologize for bettering yourself for your kids.”

“It doesn’t feel like that right now.”

“A lot of things change.”

“Yeah, it does.”

They stare at each other, and for the first time in weeks, Langdon doesn’t feel a panicky weight in his chest.

“Why don’t I give you my number?”

“As much as I’d love to, I’m still a married man,” Langdon teases.

Well, sort of. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

McKay rolls her eyes. “You are not my type.”

“Too handsome?”

“Too much of a dick.”

Langdon smirks, sliding his unlocked phone over. As she types his number in, Harrison trots over, book in hand.

“Mom, I finished.”

McKay wraps an arm around his neck, eyes locked on the phone. “Did you? Why don’t you tell Doctor Langdon what you read about.”

As McKay types her number into Langdon’s phone, Harrison blabs about the nocturnal animals book he read. Langdon learns some freaky facts about owls and gets some sense of normalcy.

~•~

Alanna thinks befriending McKay was a leap in the right direction. Someone who shares Langdon’s past and can provide support while also seeing him as more than just his addiction.

It’s refreshing. As much as the NA meetings and the people there have helped him, it’s good to have an actual friend. It’s forced him to realize that he didn’t really have any friends. After undergrad, all of his frat brothers parted ways as he moved onto medical school. He had starved himself of human contact besides Abby, who had been his life line. His nose was kept to the books until residency where he met the people at the Pitt who had taken him in—oddities and all.

Robby was his one of his only genuine friends. And as much as the self-deprecation is convincing him it was just some pathetic, one-sided adoration, he knows Robby had felt the same about him. Every flash of that rare, full-teeth smile confirmed it.

And Langdon went and shattered that trust.

“You never know,” McKay says through bites. There’s some condiment stain on her upper lip. “It seems like he’s cheering you on.”

Langdon stares at his own sloppy burger. He hasn’t had a filthy, greasy burger in a long time. The way McKay is plowing through her meal must mean she hasn’t either.

“Has he mentioned me at all?” He’s aware of how desperate it sounds, but his curiosity is killing him.

McKay raises an eyebrow before wiping at her mouth with the back of a hand. “No. Actually, it’s kind of the opposite. Anytime someone mentions your name, he practically runs in the opposite direction.”

“Great. What every guy wants to hear.”

Langdon abandons his burger. His stomach is churning, and suddenly his appetite has shrunk.

“Robby’s going through his own healing too.” McKay pops a few fries in her mouth. “When my mother found out, she wouldn’t talk to me for weeks. She was furious. I was mad at her too, because it felt like she was abandoning me.”

Langdon looks up, and McKay’s smiling. “Why do you look so happy about it?”

“Hindsight’s a bitch. I was so obsessed with my own anger that I didn’t have space in my head to realize she was going through something too. Imagine your kid was developing an addiction, and you didn’t even notice.”

Charlotte and her chubby, rosy cheeks pops into his head. Tanner, and his messy, dirty blonde strands that never stick down. He can’t imagine what they’ll look like when they grow up. Who they’ll resemble more.

He hopes it isn’t him.

“Yeah,” he mutters, just to say something. Then, “are you saying that Robby feels like that?”

McKay shrugs. “Maybe. It could be a bunch of things. All I know is that he’s avoiding it in his typical Robby ways.”

He rolls his eyes, and an angry sort of pride strikes him. The idea that he may be doing even slightly better at something than Robby. “That doesn’t sound like him at all.”

“Give him time.”

“I need him to see that I’m getting better.”

“He will,” she placates.

Langdon doesn’t think she will understand. There’s no amount or depth of words he can use to describe how badly he needs Robby’s approval. Even after unfolding his desperation with Alanna, it doesn’t make it fade away.

In fact, he thinks his resolve has tripled.

~•~

Abby’s lawyer contacts him the same day he receives an email from PTMC. It’s entirely coincidental.

The email states his first day back will be Monday, July 6th. He’s to bring a printout of his lab results which prove his sobriety. There’s also an attached email detailing how his last year of residency has been extended to cover the time he has missed in his absence.

He’s not entirely too surprised that the Pitt is taking him back without any hesitation. The rate of addiction in healthcare is astronomical compared to other fields.

The dropout and understaff percentages are even worse. They’re desperate and take any willing person they can get their hands on. Even if that person is fresh out of rehab from stealing the hospital’s own medication.

He switches gears and focuses on the call he just had with the lawyer. Once Langdon shows he has steady employment, Abby will agree to joint custody. Supervised until Langdon proves himself.

As if he wasn’t handling his own kids just fine, but whatever. If that’s what Abby needs to see that he’s a fit adult, then so be it.

He vents this to McKay over the phone.

“It’s all formality,” she says, voice crinkled. “Doesn’t make it any less annoying.”

“You got that right. I mean, they’re my kids too.”

He doesn’t mention that Charlotte barely wants to see him, hesitant to speak over the phone. Tanner’s sorting through his own bundle of emotions that he’s too young to understand. Or express in a way that any of them can interpret easily.

“I hear you,” McKay says.

Langdon props his legs onto the coffee table. One sweet benefit of living alone is that no one can complain about how he sits. No one is here to swat at his feet as he tries to relax.

“Hey, guess who's coming back soon.”

“No way. You got your start date?”

“Mmm. July 6th.”

There’s a pause. Some rustling, too. “That’s pretty soon. Good for you! Are you excited?”

“I’ve nearly lost my sanity from boredom.”

McKay laughs. “You’ll get real sick of the ER after an hour.”

“Is that a bet I’m hearing? I’m more than happy to put a price to it.”

“Forgot you’re wired differently than the rest of us. If someone isn’t bleeding or screaming, you don't want it.”

Langdon feels himself break into a grin. “Hey, want to come over to celebrate? Netflix just added the older seasons of Wipeout.”

“Wipeout? God, you sound old.”

“Aren’t you older than me?”

Usually, Langdon knows better than to comment on someone’s age, especially a woman’s. But McKay’s like a sister at this point. A sister with thick skin and slick words.

“Sorry, which one of us was listening to Eurythmics on his run yesterday?”

He rolls his eyes. It was a mistake telling McKay that he got emotional listening to ‘Here Comes the Rain Again.’ The memories of Robby meeting his eyes across the ER came crashing in when the verse hit. Sue him for being in touch with his emotions now.

“Listening to more modern music doesn’t make you better than me.”

“I’ll be over in an hour, ‘lover boy’.” 

Langdon groans as the call ends. He sets aside any thoughts he may have about his start date and cleans up the house instead.

~•~

The phone buzzes in his hands as Langdon scrolls through a journal article. It’s work. Someone who creates the scheduling for their department. One of the residents called out sick with the flu right before the Fourth of July holiday, and they are requesting (forcing) Langdon to come in two days early.

It’s July 3rd when Langdon receives this news.

That night, Langdon triple checks everything. He’s never doubted his own work before, but it’s been a long time since he’s felt like himself.

He’s only been acquainted with the part of himself that was coping with pills. The old him is locked away somewhere, creeping back out like the sun inching above the horizon on a bright new day.

His lab report is sealed in an envelope on the kitchen table. The scrubs he plans on wearing are packed in his bag. A jacket and pair of jeans lay on the chair in his bedroom.

He has to dress casually for his meeting with HR in the morning. They don’t appreciate their employees walking in with scrubs like they work in a hospital.

He tucks himself into bed early, because he knows he won’t get much sleep.

Several hours of tossing and turning proves him right. Any deep sleep he does achieve is plagued with memories of Robby. His face is distorted, or blurred.

Most of the time, he thinks he sees the sharp shadows of a frown, but the beard hides a lot from him. His arms are strong as they peak from under the navy zip up.

His eyes blink open at 5:37 AM. He has no choice but to get up now. He doesn’t want to face another Robby before he absolutely has to.

He does text McKay about the freaky dream. Blobbed visions of Robby haunting him around every corner.

McKay [06:34 AM]: sounds like someone’s got a crush

Langdon gasps. His fingers hover over the keyboard. They circle different letters before deciding on:

Langdon [06:35 AM]: What?????

There’s a sudden twitchiness to his body. It's new. Not like the nerves he’s been feeling all morning, and definitely not the low grade ache for a pill that sometimes still nips at him. This is a different beast altogether. Hungry, and warm in his chest.

The toaster his parents gifted him dings behind him. He mistakes it as a text notification, and grabs at his phone.

After remembering he’s not some lovestruck teenager, he pockets the device and spreads some scrambled eggs on the toast.

He eats, then throws away the paper plate he ate off of. McKay’s text buzzes in his pocket.

She sent a shrug emoji.

Fantastic.

After a few seconds, she sends:

McKay [06:37 AM]: That’s what my dad used to tell me before I told him it was BS

Langdon rubs a hand across his forehead. It’s too similar to how Robby’s hand drags down his face whenever he’s exasperated. Like touching a hot stove, Langdon yanks his hand down.

Langdon [06:38 AM]: Why would you tell me this right before I see him????

McKay sends a laughing emoji. She loves those goddamn emojis, even if she uses the wrong ones at the wrong times. Langdon closes his phone, and if it didn’t cost half of his rent, he’d chuck the thing across the room.

There’s no time to think about McKay’s sick sense of humor. Instead, he busies himself with getting dressed for work. He parts his hair and fluffs it in a way that screams ‘effortlessly handsome’ despite the fact it takes him ten minutes to calm down the unruly strands.

On the way out, he throws on his Pittsburgh Penguins cap, pushes his ring and sobriety bracelet onto his left hand, and slams the door shut. He can’t let himself think about this any longer or he’s never going to make it out the door. His system is kicked into fight-or-flight. Blood rushes in his ears, pounding, pounding, as he darts to the ER.

Lupe sits behind the ward desk. She’s scanning something on the computer before she opens her mouth near the microphone. 

Her voice stops at the sight of Langdon approaching. They stare at each other through the industrial-grade glass. She raises her eyebrows but buzzes him back.

He’s never been shy at the ER before. This used to be his domain. He ruled this place.

And now, after some illegal pills he stole to help his withdrawal from the legally prescribed pills, he can barely take two steps without trembling.

Those fucking pills suppressed his emotions, and now that they’re back, his hands are full with their intensity. He doesn’t know how to regulate.

He gives a small nod before walking towards the back. As he walks in, his warm palm heats up the envelope clutched tight in his hand. 

Despite the AC blasting across his face, he still feels flushed. Like a new form of stage fright has consumed him.

People are staring. Either through him or at the envelope. There’s a distinct, new feeling of wanting to crawl out of his skin and hide.

“36 year old Thomas Burleigh. Front-seat passenger in car crash. Tachycardic. Glass shards to the right arm.”

Emergency service personnel rush past him in a flash of black and blue. A doctor Langdon’s never seen before plasters herself to the side of the gurney.

Her sharp cheekbones duck beneath a bundle of brown curls. She unravels the stethoscope from around her neck, moves in tandem with the EMTs as they park the patient in one of the trauma rooms.

“Mr. Burleigh, I’m Doctor Al-Hashimi. How are you feeling?” Her voice fades as the doors swing shut.

Must be the new attending McKay told him about. Just another piece of this place that is unrecognizable to him.

Langdon resumes his steps, picks up his pace even, and forces himself to breathe as he starts to move in front of the nurse’s station.

“Ahhh, the prodigal son returns.”

He pauses, foot stuck out like he’s trying to trip someone. Craning his neck, he sees a night shift nurse, Lena, peering up at him with a grin. His eyes bug out as he notices Dana beside her. She’s avoiding his gaze, staring down at the paper they were glancing over before.

He feels small. A toy in a claw machine plucked from the pile. Langdon nods his head, worrying his lips together, before sprinting to the lockers.

He changes into his work attire. His scrubs are cold and unused with a strong waft of detergent. The thought that there will without a doubt be blood stains and grime on his uniform by the end of today fills him with a sense of hope somehow.

The sound of wheels squeaking and bodies crashing brings him out into the open. It only takes two cases for him to get back into the flow.

It takes three cases before he bumps into McKay. Again. For a split second, he’s thrown back to that cold afternoon when he could finally speak the word ‘addict.’

“Dude,” she says, walking the opposite direction. “Watch where you’re walking.”

Langdon stares back at her with an opened mouth. His jaw is slack with surprise. “Uhhm.”

McKay stops in her tracks and looks back at him. Gets a genuine observation of him. She turns back around and knocks her arm against his.

“I’m kidding, man.”

His breath leaves him, top lip quivering on an exhale. A corner of his lip tips up as McKay grins back at him.

“Welcome back. Meet afterwards or will you be busy?” McKay asks.

“No.” Langdon sees on her face how it sounds. “No, I mean, yes. Yes. That would be great. See you later?”

McKay looks dubious, raised eyebrows, but she’s still smiling. She waves him off, and Javadi, who he hadn’t even seen, smiles tight-lipped at him and follows in her steps, nearly prancing on the tips of her toes.

He sighs, and it’s a shaky, barely-there exhale. Nothing is normal anymore, and Langdon’s whole world tilts.

~•~

It takes a shocking seven cases before he runs into Robby.

There’s a gurney coming in through the back entrance. It’s instinct, like magnets pulling together, for Langdon to direct all his focus on the patient and run to the gurney’s side. His feet fall in motion beside an EMT he vaguely remembers the name of.

“What do we got?”

Langdon doesn’t remember his voice sounding so deep, like a far away echo. He looks up and sees the split second Robby realizes he is standing on the other side of the same gurney. Robby looks down, away, anywhere that isn’t Langdon.

“Lula Barcley,” the EMT says without pause. “55 years old, fell from the stairs in her home. Daughter found her unconscious. Possible concussion.”

The patient stares up at them, possibly through them. Her eyes are crystal clear, but her gaze is cold. Gazed over. Langdon gulps, stares up at Robby instead.

“How long?” Robby asks, moving with the gurney.

“Daughter says it couldn’t have been more than five minutes.”

One of the EMTs steps on Langdon’s foot. Pushes him to keep walking into the trauma room. A strap keeps the patient’s head straight on the gurney, but her eyes roll over to him. Unintentional. Langdon can’t start the cogs in his brain fast enough to understand the importance of that.

The EMTs leave the room and a flood of nurses replace them. Except, it’s still just him and Robby trapped here.

Langdon doesn’t remember how many days he’s been sober. Just how many days it’s been since he’s seen Robby.

Nine months.

Twenty-nine days.

Eleven hours.

And some amount of minutes. Forgive him for not remembering, but it’s better than the amount of effort that Robby’s given to him. Which is nothing. Seems to be prioritizing all his efforts into ignoring him, actually.

A hoard of nurses swarm the room. They start shouting out numbers that Langdon can’t focus on.

“Doctor Langdon.”

The voice is angry, nearly a growl for attention. He spikes his head up and sees Robby glaring at him, hands clenched around his biceps in that ‘I’m waiting’ way.

“What are you thinking?”

His immediate thought is fury.

He’s thinking about how fucking infuriating it is to be back here, to have jumped through every hoop that Robby has demanded of him, like a good little hound, just to be ignored like some nobody. Like he wasn’t Robby’s best.

Langdon reaches for that outrage. Transforms it into passion. Fuel to get the cogs turning, because he will not be made a fucking fool.

He didn’t spend ten months going through recovery just to fumble.

“Most likely concussion. Depending on how she fell, we have to consider intracranial hemorrhage.”

Robby lowers his head. A nurse rushes behind him, but it’s all a blur. Everything around them spins like a shaken snow globe. 

“How do we rule that out?”

“CT or MRI. BP’s high. Could be a sign.”

The attention is dizzying. He feels Robby’s gaze as he moves around, checking the patient’s pupil response.

“So, how do we fix this?”

“Medication to lower her BP. If there’s a big enough bleed, we’ll have to call surgery.”

Langdon looks up at Robby, narrowing his eyes and daring him to say anything. Even if it’s to tell him that his plan of action is wrong—which he knows he isn’t.

He wonders if the desperation is obvious on his face. Robby clears his throat, eyes glaring at the ground, like Robby doesn’t want to give Langdon the win. Doesn’t want to see him succeed in his ER.

Robby must know, on some level subconsciously or not, what it did to him to hear his praises. Used to be so easy with his approval, like a second language he can slip in and out of, because they both understand that he’s the best resident around.

Or at least, was the best resident. Now, Robby’s so reserved and pissed off that Langdon’s starting to waver in his own confidence.

Still, with a pounding heart, he clings onto his last string of self-assurance which keeps him running. They’re waiting for the other one to break, and he’s not going to let Robby’s fickle faith in him be his downfall.

Damn Robby.

The doors swooshing open breaks his thoughts. Doctor Garcia walks in, a sickening smile plastered on her face. Her eyebrows raise at the sight of Langdon.

“Looks like my vacation is over.”

“Miss me that much?” Langdon replies, feeling himself slip into the banter.

She scoffs. “Not at all. What do we got?”

Langdon gives her a confused look. “Who called you? I’ve got this handled.”

“First day jitters? Surgery gets even days, remember? Go look clueless somewhere else.”

Langdon laughs, and it’s the first time he’s felt normal all day. When he looks back up, Robby’s disappeared, and his heart breaks at the fact that he’s not surprised at all.

~•~

He doesn’t trust anything that may come out of his mouth, so he sits with McKay on her plush couch for twenty minutes without saying a word.

She’s watching some new drama series that has the corniest writing Langdon has ever heard. There’s still tears in McKay’s eyes no matter how many times Langdon scoffs at each impossible scenario that happens in the show.

“He hates me, Cassie.”

McKay looks over, tissue dabbing at the corner of her eyes. “What happened today?”

He recounts the singular case they worked together. How every time a doctor was required, Robby would dance around the new attending and conveniently remove himself from Langdon’s sight.

“You’re like a puppy, man.”

Langdon glares at her. It stings, but it’s true. Just like every other revelation he’s had over the past nine months.

He’s apparently really bad at being self-aware. McKay seems to have some insight on his character, because she keeps going.

“No, seriously. You keep chasing him around, but you have to focus on yourself. Can’t be worried about Robby when he’s clearly got his own shit going on.”

“I guess,” Langdon says. He pulls his feet onto the couch, knocking his chin on his knees. “What do I do, Cassie? I…I’m really not sure. I’m not good at this stuff.”

“What stuff?”

He waves a hand, hoping McKay can read the air. She raises an eyebrow at him, nodding along for him to verbalize his thoughts, but he can’t. He doesn’t want to say it. Whatever…feelings he has regarding Robby.

“What do you think you should do?”

Langdon rolls his eyes. “You sound like my therapist.”

“Yeah? How do you think I learned to get through this? Just play along.”

He thinks it over. Tries to place himself in Robby’s shoes, but he’s too far away. Every step Langdon takes, Robby takes ten more. He’s at the top of the stairs that Langdon can’t even climb.

“I don’t know. Should I talk to him?”

McKay shakes her head. “You need to give him some space. And time. Give him that much, and see where it goes. It’s only the first day.”

“Yeah. Yeah, alright. I’ll see how the week goes.”

McKay gives him a look like he suggested a spectacularly idiotic idea. “The week?”

“No good?”

“Frank,” McKay says. Her eyes narrow like she’s about to start crying at her show again, but she’s looking at him. “Robby’s going on sabbatical for three months.”

Langdon’s vision swims. He can’t tell if he’s about to pass out or start throwing shit.

McKay puts a warm hand on his back, right above the muscle that started it all. The knot in his throat dissolves his words into bile, and he’s right back in the ambulance bay all those months ago.

Chapter Text

Langdon tries taking McKay’s advice and focuses all his energy towards himself.

Therapy’s a good start, and he still attends his weekly sessions. Alanna is unsubtle in her attempts to coax stories about Robby out of him. It may be due to the fact he name-drops Robby a few minutes before his sessions end and leaves as soon as Alanna tries to dig deeper.

His NA meetings have been helping too. It’s at least somewhat reassuring to know that he isn’t the only one with these bizarre thoughts. He meets with his sponsor after every meeting at the local diner.

Gregory suggests that he should focus on himself and his relationships outside of Robby. His plate is full enough with adapting to full time work again. Being drug tested and attending meetings and staying in line with his strict contract that allows him to work in the first place.

Dealing with his…feelings about Robby is a whole separate plate he doesn’t want to touch.

“You can deal with your relationship once your partner’s back to actually talkin’ to you,” Gregory says from across the diner counter.

Langdon shakes his head. He digs into his breakfast sausage patties. They’re way too greasy, but he sort of feels like he’s earned this for dragging himself out of bed and attending NA this morning.

“Abby doesn’t want anything to do with me. I’m only ever hearing about her from her lawyer.”

Gregory raises an eyebrow at him. His drink sits paused on his bottom lip before he lowers the cup. “Who the hell’s Abby?”

“My ex-wife? Keep with the program, man.”

A colossal laugh echoes in the diner. Gregory’s face shifts from a grin to straight faced in a blink of an eye. “Never heard of her.”

“Dude, how do you not know who my—you know what. Never mind. Who did you think I was seeing?”

The silence is filled with Gregory taking a lousy slurp from his coffee. “Thought that Robby guy was your boyfriend or something.”

The breakfast sinks to the bottom of his stomach. His fork clatters against the plate. He’s…not hearing this right.

“You thought Robby and I….”

He can’t even fucking say it. If he vocalizes it, Langdon’s mind is gonna flood with all sorts of thoughts he’s definitely not going to handle well.

“I’m—uhh…not gay.”

Gregory gives him a look over his cup that Langdon doesn’t understand. Isn’t gonna give the energy to decipher it either, so he focuses on his plate. His scrambled eggs stare back at him, and he pushes the plate away.

“Take off your ring, man. You look pathetic with that thing on.”

His eyes jut over to his engagement ring. He’s been slipping it on each morning like an old routine.

At first, it was a disguise meant to hide the fact that anything was wrong. That he still had a wife who loved him for all his flaws and nothing bad ever happened and he was a perfectly sane man attuned to society.

Now, when he slips the ring on, it's out of routine. And maybe some delusional hope that it would channel some confidence into him. If he wore the right outfit, he could teleport back in time to when he still had everything under control.

Back before the addiction and drugs and Robby to when he was just himself. A confident, snarky doctor with a good head on his shoulders.

After a moment, he twists the ring off and pockets it.

Langdon knocks on McKay’s door afterwards. He’s lucky that it’s her day off, or else she was going to be pissed at him for blowing up her phone, because he was going to talk to her about this one way or another.

She swings the door open, one pajama leg riding up more than the other. Rubs a hand through her disheveled hair as she lets him in.

 “Did you just wake up?” Langdon asks.

“Shoes off,” she grumbles.

He pushes his shoes off with each heel and trails her into the living space. The curtains are drawn shut, so Langdon reels them open to help bring light into the room. McKay flops onto the couch, arm slapped over her eyes.

“Dude, what the hell?” McKay groans.

“You’ll feel better. Little something called Vitamin D.”

“I’ll feel better once you make me something to eat.”

Langdon narrows his eyes, still standing awkwardly in the doorway of her living room. “Why do I have to make you something?”

His grumblings go unanswered, and he makes his way into the kitchen. For someone of such great intelligence and capabilities, Langdon’s learned that McKay sucks at cooking. Nearly poisonous levels of terrible.

He’s not that great either. Abby used to do all of the cooking as a stay-at-home mother, but now that that relationship has ended, he’s on his own.

For the future, he should know how to cook for the kids…if he gets to see them. Maybe not be the douchebag, out-of-touch father who isn’t buying his kids flavorless microwave dinners every night.

There’s no medical skill that he doesn't have locked down. He’s a senior resident in a emergency department of a very frantic, bustling city. Cooking should be a piece of cake compared to his line of work.

“You’re really not getting any better,” McKay judges twenty minutes later, mouth full of food.

“You’re more than welcome to make your own breakfast.”

Langdon takes a bite of the pancakes. There’s a tough rubbery texture followed by a strange after taste. If he pours enough syrup, he can ignore the dryness.

“So, what did you come here to tell me about?”

“Who said I’m here for anything?”

McKay scrapes more syrup onto her pancake. “So, you came over just to make me a shitty breakfast?”

“My sponsor thinks I’m gay.”

McKay cackles. She looks up, and sees the very serious look he’s giving her, because this is a very grave issue, damnit. “Oh, you’re serious.”

“Yeah.”

“Why would he think that?”

“I don’t know!”

McKay glares at him. “Okay, I need you to walk me through this.”

So, Langdon does just that. By the end of the story, his heart has started racing and McKay is looking at him like he’s an idiot. Which, he may just be, because,

“Am I an idiot?”

“Nah.”

“Cass, I’m talking about Robby more than my ex-wife. The mother of my kids!”

Langdon groans. In the corner of his eye as McKay drops her head into a palm. She’s not even trying to hide her grin.

“What’s the harm in a little crush?”

It’s not a crush. 

And he voices as much, because he’s a grown man. Crushes aren't something he’s experienced past the age of seventeen. The whole idea is juvenile. And tasteless.

Robby is his mentor. His friend. They’ve been through an insurmountable of shit together—even before that shift from hell. 

Langdon’s the man he is today, because of Robby’s influence. He’s soaked in every lesson, every teaching, every praise and redirection, every ‘good work,’ every ‘just like that—’

A strong heat rises in his cheeks. Langdon stares at the table. His breath is loud in his ears, and he must look like an idiot to McKay.

If ‘crush’ isn’t too off the mark, then ‘little’ may just be the biggest understatement of the century.

“Am I gay?” Langdon mutters. 

“Well, that’s kind of up to you.”

“I’m not…I like women.”

“Okay, now you’re being an idiot.”

Langdon isn’t familiar with this kind of thing. At all. He thought this was something people figured out during their freshman year of college, that first time away from home, not after one divorce and a thirty-third birthday.

A bright light batters his eyes. McKay’s phone is shoved in his face. After his eyes adjust to the abnormal brightness of her screen, he sees a staff picture from a conference happening in town.

He remembers being a fresh-faced intern, stuffing himself in an oversized tuxedo, and being locked into a massive hotel room with no clue what was happening.

He was much more comfortable socializing with people he has connected with beyond more than just ‘hand me that scalpel.’ It transformed into more of a networking event for him than a collection of talks and workshops to learn from. A chance to showcase his charm and wits.

Before he could work up the courage to speak with some of the department figures he recognized, Robby had popped into his vision and grabbed him by the shoulder. A heavy palm kneaded just below his neck.

His face was flushed, a rosy tint to his high cheekbones. He had the demeanor of a drunk man, but Langdon knew even then that Robby wasn’t much of a drinker. Just an extremely low tolerance for someone of his stature.

Langdon feels a breathy chuckle slip from his mouth in real time. The man is huge—the muscles of his back wide and strong—and his mind’s eye travels down Robby’s arms. Thick and surprisingly toned. It’s a shame he hides it all underneath those zip-up jackets.

He blinks, ashamed at his thoughts. Robby from the picture zones back into vision. His rare, polite smile points to the flush on his face that trickles down and under the collar of his button up shirt.

That night, Robby had maneuvered him around the room, showcasing him off as their newest and brightest intern. Introduced him to the other attendings with the Pitt and other emergency medicine experts at the conference. By the end of the night, Robby’s hands had dug a permanent dent in his shoulders.

Langdon should have known from that moment he would have been stuck chasing that same level of recognition and adoration from Robby.

“Wow,” McKay says after a while. He forgot she was there. “You’re down bad.”

“He’s my mentor,” Langdon argues. “And my boss.”

“Oh, like that’s stopped anyone before.”

“You?”

McKay guffaws, swinging a hand through the air. “God, no. Collins.”

“That rumor was true!?”

She leans forward, head propped on her palm. Langdon watches, jaw dropped, as McKay takes the phone back and swipes before shoving the phone back in his face.

It’s a different photo from the same night, some irrelevant higher board members cheering together in the foreground.

The more important part of the picture is in the background. Collins is tucked in the corner, a stunning navy turtle neck tucked into black slacks. As professional as ever.

What wasn’t professional in the picture is Robby. He’s not exactly towering over her, but he’s close enough to nearly hide her from sight. His head’s tilted down, and he’s smiling gently at whatever she’s got to say.

Collins had several rotations as a med student with different departments at PTMC. She graduated to then be accepted into the Pitt for her residency. Langdon didn’t join the Pitt crew until the first year of his residency. She had several more months of experience with Robby, despite being the same year.

Their odd closeness during his formative years start to make a little more sense.

“Where did you get these?” Langdon whispers, mouth dry.

“They got sent in a group chat a while ago. Cute, right?”

“So…Collins and Robby.”

McKay’s grin is not helping him feel any better about whatever epiphany he’s discovering. She shuts off her phone.

“I don’t know for sure, but I heard from one of the night nurses that they had fooled around a bit.”

“Had?”

“Yes, Frank, had. He’s all yours for the taking.”

Reality comes shattering down on his shoulders like glass. That photo was a nice trip down nostalgia road, but McKay’s words have effectively yanked him back to the present where Robby can’t even look at him without being disgusted by what he sees.

“No—that’s….” Langdon sighs, a soft, barely-there exhale. “Robby wants nothing to do with me.”

McKay’s eyes crinkle. A sad wince.

Great.

Langdon’s first gay crush is his emotionally unavailable boss twice his age.

Fuck his stupid life.

~•~

When an emotional, personal challenge comes his way, Langdon tends to avoid it. Turning his cheek the other way and burying his head in work or projects that will cover up the problem.

So, when Langdon realizes he may have some really serious feelings for Robby, he does what he does best:

Ignore it.

Except, he can’t get his mind out of an obsessive cycle of being reminded of Robby, derailing his thoughts into ideas about Robby’s doing, swearing to not think about Robby for the rest of the day, only to come back to the beginning when someone or something reminds him of Robby once again.

Robby, Robby, Robby.

Clearly, shoving the problems he and Abby were having under a pile of work had done wonders. He’s divorced now and can’t see or talk to his kids without third party involvement. So, maybe, it’s time to switch gears.

He picks back up on Alanna’s advice of reconnecting with people in his old circle. Three months without Robby at work gives him the perfect opportunity, and it’s probably a healthier option than what Langdon would have done if he had this disturbing revelation months ago.

McKay’s insight on the Pitt’s gossip is telling him that most people haven’t found out why Langdon was gone for ten months. He’s only sure about the fact that there are speculations about his disappearance. From a parental death or an onset of a chronic disease of some sorts—he’s heard it all.

Mel is the first person at work to treat him like a normal coworker.

She’s always been a companion to him. A kind soul that somehow crept past his walls. On her first goddamn day. He can’t understand what’s so magical about her, but he’s always at ease when she’s around.

He finds her at one of the computers. She’s leaned in close, teeth fidgeting with her bottom lip as she reads over a report. It takes her a few moments to realize he’s standing there, but when she looks up, her eyes are wide.

“Oh—hi, Doctor Langdon.”

“Hey, Mel.”

“I never got the chance to welcome you back.” She turns in the chair, smile bright. “So, welcome back.”

“Thank you. That means a lot.”

“Really?”

Langdon feels himself mirror her smile. “Yeah, it does. And I wanted to apologize for leaving so suddenly.”

Mel’s face drops, like the reminder of his departure taste sour on her tongue. “I don’t know why, but I’m sure it was for a good reason. I’m just happy that you’re back. We all are.”

His throat clamps around the words that Langdon doesn’t have the resolve to speak. He knows what he wants to say though. Can even acknowledge now the pride and joy that he feels at someone telling him he belongs here.

Even if the acceptance isn’t coming from Robby, it’s still nice to hear.

Javadi’s a more familiar face ever since he and McKay became closer. In the past, he would have said she trails McKay like a lost puppy. He still chuckles at his first memory of her collapsing on the floor at seven in the morning.

That clumsy, queasy girl isn’t who he sees now. Now, he sees a confident student ready to make it big in the medical field.

Once she figures out what field she wants to specialize in, that is.

She’s more blunt around him now that Langdon’s the one trailing McKay around. Not harsh, just looser with her filter.

Or maybe it’s just the combination of Langdon’s pessimism and McKay’s foul mouth transforming Javadi into a mischievous gossip fiend.

Javadi and him stare at the betting pool together. The white board is plastered with colorful sticky notes, names and dollars scribbled on each.

“See, if your bet’s right, then that means you get a percentage of the winning pot. The more you bet, the more you win.”

“But…that’s only if you’re right.”

“Well, yeah. That’s how betting works.”

Some idiot stole a car from a dealership, abandoned it on the side of the road, and is currently running through the highway. They’re betting on the condition of their soon-to-be patient. He’s certainly within their catchment zone.

Langdon writes ‘drug-induced mania, $20’ on the sticky note and tapes it to the board. Javadi trades places with him to stick her own note to the board. He scoffs when he sees her answer.

“Delirium caused by infection?” Langdon reads, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Is there something wrong with my answer?”

“No, just don’t be upset when I take all your money.”

Javadi shrugs, and before she has any time to respond, their next patient comes rushing in through the back doors.

Langdon eats his words five hours later when the forty-two year old erratic driver gets diagnosed sepsis-induced delirium.

~•~

Alanna keeps asking for updates about work. She’s too nosey for his liking, but he still finds himself confiding in her anyways.

“It’s weird.”

“What is?” She asks.

“Seeing people move on with life like nothing happened.”

Collins graduated from her residency, so she’s now an attending with PTMC. Which—good. She’s always been one of the smarter people there.

When he had shown his face during that first week back, she had given him a rather surprised look. Then, she welcomed him back and gave a friendly push to his shoulders. Said he looked healthier in that honest way that no one else has really acknowledged him with.

It would have stung if she wasn’t there during his return. They’ve been through too much shit together to not be bonded, and he’s really fucking glad his disappearance didn’t change a thing.

Mohan’s technically his equal now too, promoted to senior resident. She’s quicker on her feet than he recalls, but he wonders if it’s just her newfound belief in herself that makes her appear faster. The new attending Al-Hashimi instills more praise and confidence in Mohan than Robby ever believed in doing.

Langdon knows for a fact that he himself has slowed down, so maybe everyone around him just looks to be speeding up. Everyone's moved up in their training besides him. He’s stuck repeating his last year like some super senior in high school.

She keeps repeating how everything takes time, like how Robby needs time, and Langdon should give himself time too.

“You keep mentioning Robby.”

He bristles. An innate urge to fight back builds in the back of his head like a forgotten memory coming forward.

“Yeah?”

“Is there something specific you want to talk about regarding him?”

Langdon thinks back on that conference picture. His rosy cheeks and how his large arm was so casually hung around Langdon’s shoulder, showing him off like his latest trophy. Always a beam of support.

Except for when he needed him the most.

“No, it’s fine.”

~•~

Little by little, as the weeks pass, Langdon eases into a normality that he hasn’t felt in almost a year. It creeps on him slowly when he nods good morning to Whittaker or fights with Princess over the donut flavors a generous patient brought in.

There’s still a hollow. Like a hole in a leaky faucet, building up enough water to plop out one teensy droplet. As much as he appreciates his newfound—and oldfound, if that’s a word—connections, it only makes Robby’s absence more prominent.

Maybe he should consider this a genuine obsession. Trading pills for men. Or rather, one man in particular.

Late at night, when his sleep issues still keep him up, memories from the past plague him. This ideation of Robby, he realizes, goes back much farther than he likes to think.

He tries not to let the one-sided nature of their relationship trouble him. Tries to play it off as a random school hall crush on a girl way out of his league.

Every time a reminder of Robby pops up, Langdon physically shakes himself. Psyching himself up like he’s about to take off on a track. He’s gotten odd looks from his peers, but that’s nothing new.

It’s a mistake to do as much in front of Dana. He jumps in place, bouncing on the tips of his toes, and Dana scoffs at him.

“So, you’re back for good,” Dana comments in a light tone that suggests it's anything but casual.

Langdon shoots his head down from the patient board. She’s leaning on the other side. The thin glasses are propped far down the bridge of her nose as she reads someone.

“That alright?”

“So long as you stop being a pain in my ass.”

It’s meant as a joke. Langdon still feels sick, guilt twisting his intestines in strange knots.

“Dana, I never got the chance to apologize.”

The rush of the ER swarms over his words. His shame keeps him from shouting the words he knows he needs to say.

It was much easier before to holler the shit that would hurt the most. Lashing out was an easy habit to fall back on. He finds it harder now to say the kinder sentiments.

“Do you have a minute?” Langdon asks, teetering on his heels.

“Of course not,” she says.

Turning her back, Dana makes her way down the hall. He follows her, maybe to convince her, but she takes them to the empty break room.

Right where they were all those months ago.

He leans against the closed door, peering down at his feet. His gaze lingers on the ground before he looks back up.

“I’m sorry for how I treated you that day. There’s no excuse for what I did.”

Dana stares at him, arms crossed. She raises a hand, motioning for him to continue.

“Robby found out about…something bad that I did. I lashed out and used you as a last resort. I had some ridiculous idea that someone would…I don’t know. Save me, I guess.”

Langdon peeks up at her. Her eyebrows are still raised, but she doesn’t look shocked. He doesn’t remember much of the smaller details from that day. Only remembers the disgusting desperation seeping out of him, clinging to Dana like she’d pull him out of there.

She was always great at roping in the ones who slipped through the crack. He thought she’d do the same for him.

“He caught you stealing from the PDS.”

It isn’t a question, but Langdon nods. His ears roar with heat.

It’s been a while since he’s been nauseous from this particular combination of guilt and humiliation. Suddenly, he’s back in Robby’s Jeep and at the start of his withdrawals.

His hand slaps over his mouth. A strange sound like a stuttering exhale breaks past his fingers. The breathing exercises Alanna taught him have slipped his mind entirely like it was never there to begin with.

“You clean now?”

“Almost a year sober,” Langdon mutters, trying his best at a smile and failing. “Dana, I’m really sorry. You shouldn’t have had to deal with that. I shouldn't have forced that on you.”

Dana stares at him like a grade school teacher who had caught him slacking off in class. Trying to decide a punishment befitting the crime. She steps forward, clapping a hand around his arm.

“You put in the work, kid. There’s no way in hell the old Langdon would have apologized. I appreciate that.”

His eyes grow watery, but he blinks large and slow to control himself. He will not get emotional now, damnit!

“Thank you, Dana. Really….”

She nods, eyes narrowing. “Have you talked to Robby yet?”

Langdon shakes his head, breathing a laugh. “Robby wants nothing to do with me.”

“You told him what you just told me?”

“I haven’t had the chance. He avoided me like the plague and then dropped off the face of the earth.”

“Tell him what you just told me. Might do you both some good.”

She’s not sure what she means by the ‘both’ of them, but by the time he thinks to ask, Dana’s slipped out the door. He lets the hammering in his heart slow down for at least a minute before he goes back out there.

~•~

With Al-Hashimi and Collins as the day attendings in charge for the time being, Langdon has been adjusting his view of Robby in his mind.

Robby is no longer his boss. He’s not on a pedestal bestowing wisdom to his inferiors. Right now, he’s nothing to the ED. He’s just one man.

The thought churns some heavy thoughts in his mind. It hits stronger when Langdon’s at home, sitting idle and bored. He thinks about what Robby likes to do when he’s at home. What he does in his spare time, who he talks to, if he likes to go out or stay indoors.

It forces Langdon to realize that he had a distorted view of Robby. Up until that night in the ambulance bay, he was always quick to praise Robby’s ways. Saw him as a strong leader with a tight grip on his morals.

Now, he’s not quite sure who Robby is exactly. Maybe the benzos fueled the misconceptions he had. Muddled his senses and gave him rose-tinted glasses.

Robby isn’t perfect. He’s an efficient boss, an even more proficient doctor, and a genuine person who wants to help their community and is an excellent teacher to learn from.

That doesn’t mean that acknowledging his flaws will make him any less ideal.

And Langdon is horrified to realize, lying in his bed late at night, that he wants to see those bad sides of Robby. The parts that Langdon had chastised. His own words haunt him in his downtime.

‘I wasn't the one talking to cartoon animals in Peds.’

Fuck, he was crazy for saying that to Robby.

He had to better himself. Yes, for his own progress and health, but for Robby as well. Being given a second chance means doing right by him. Doing right by everyone that he hurt.

Langdon can only hope that Robby will one day be open to accepting him. Him and these large feelings consuming him whole. Just as Langdon has started to accept Robby’s flaws.

~•~

Langdon strides along the pedestrian crossing. The October air is a mighty breeze against his neck, but he’s still in a good mood. 

His lawyer had called with news about every other weekend custody with Tanner and Charlotte.

If they’re quick enough, he can spend Halloween with his children. He imagines not many fathers are actually fighting for custody of their children, so he thinks that’s why the judge is being so lenient with him.

His mind is too preoccupied with costume ideas to notice the motorcycle slamming to a stop in front of him.

The ground shakes below him as his feet stutter. Langdon glares at the cyclist before the familiarity hits him.

The cyclist’s own anger vanishes. He stares back at Langdon. His expression is minute, but he knows the small wrinkles between his eyebrows means he's in shock as well.

He knows this small detail, because it's Robby staring back at him from atop of the bike.

Robby wets his lip. His Adam's apple bobs before asking, “what were you thinking?”

Langdon can’t even stir up any anger at almost being hit. Not when the knowledge that Robby is back is sitting right in front of him.

He looks at the pedestrian sign. The giant white stop hand mocks Langdon. Well, guess he wasn't paying too much attention, anyway. His shock turns defensive, and he steps closer to the motorcycle.

“I should be asking you that. Why are you riding a motorcycle without a helmet?”

Robby opens his mouth, and a car horn blares. They both peek over Robby’s shoulder at the pissed off Nissan driver behind them. Polite as always and patience of a saint, Robby waves a hand and pulls the motorcycle over onto the curb.

It’s only when he knocks the kickstand down that Langdon realizes this is the first time in months that they have had an actual conversation.

He doesn’t inch back when Robby unfurls from the motorcycle. Robby fixes his posture and looks up at Langdon.

Despite the three month sabbatical, he looks tired. His eyes blink slow and lazy. Langdon’s close enough to count individual lashes on his heavy eyelids.

“Robby, I need to talk to you.”

“Whatever you have to say to me can wait—”

“No, it can’t. I’m sorry.”

Robby looks back at him, eyes wide. “Is this an apology?”

“Yeah. I know I screwed up. Big time. I wish I had gone to you earlier, but I didn’t want to….”

Langdon grows shy, surrounded by the rapid passing of cars and pedestrians. The city around him flourishes in streaky blurs. Robby leans down, covering his field of view.

“Didn’t want to what?” Robby asks, a firm voice above the chaos.

“I didn’t want you to see me as a fuck up. I was so focused on being the best that burdening you with my problems was just not even in the picture.”

They stare at each other, and despite the noise of the city, it’s quiet between them. Finally, Robby nods, lips pressed together. His eyes look him up and down, and Langdon submits to the strange impulse to stay still enough for him to do so.

“Okay.”

Langdon blinks. “Okay? What do you mean?”

“I hear you.”

Robby sounds exhausted, like this is an old argument they’ve rehashed a thousand times before. Except for the fact that this isn’t old. It’s a fresh wound with the stitches still in tact, and Robby won’t fucking talk to him.

“Robby, please. Say something to me. You don’t even have to forgive me, man. Just stop looking at me like that.”

“I’m not looking at you in any specific way.”

“Yes, you are. You’re looking at me like you wish you never knew me.”

Robby’s grip on the handlebars grows unsure, arms falling lax to his side. His eyes wander.

“It’s got nothing to do with you.”

“No?” Langdon asks, pissy and fiery. “Sure felt personal every time you fetched Al-Hashimi to take over. You don’t even want to be in the same room as me, Robby!”

A quick ticking resounds from somewhere. Robby looks down at his watch before looking around. Langdon feels his patience tearing away, growing thinner and thinner with each little disgruntled noise Robby makes.

Robby sighs before commenting, “we’re going to be late.”

“That’s not really something I care about right now.”

“Really?” Robby knocks the kickstand back into the motorcycle. He pushes up, standing with the bike. “I wouldn’t expect that sort of attitude from my star resident.”

The praise knocks the wind out of Langdon. He can’t feel his body, but there’s a definite tremble to his fingers.

“Don’t—” Langdon swallows. “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.”

Robby smiles, but it’s a weak thing. Pitiful and straining at the corners as his eyes crinkle. His face is full of lines that tell so many stories if you know how to read them.

Langdon’s just now starting to really learn.

“We can talk. Later,” Robby says, with emphasis after Langdon tries to flap his gums again.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d really like that.”

“Good. Now hop on.” Robby nods to the empty seat behind him.

Langdon’s brain freezes. He hasn’t been that quick on his feet in a long time. The benzos gave him an extra layer of speed that was quite humanly impossible. He’s not sure how he didn’t kill himself running a hundred miles per hour into the wall.

All that to say that despite no longer being the most lethally sharp tool in the shed, he’s still got a brain. However, he can’t seem to understand anything Robby wants from him.

“You…want me to get on that?”

“That is usually what people mean when they say ‘hop on’.”

“Robby, you only have one helmet,” Langdon says, instead of vocalizing his actual thought of ‘we just talked for the first time in months and I’m pretty sure you’re still pissed about my almost felony charge of stealing controlled substances, but now you want me on your death trap of a vehicle?’

“That’s for you to wear. Unless you don’t want to?”

“No!” Langdon says too quickly. “Just—don’t drive crazy.”

He grabs at the helmet. It’s unnaturally gigantic in his hands. A thick, glossy shell cushioned by a plush padding on the inside. He walks forward, but the helmet on his head is a distracting weight to his balance.

Like a bobblehead, he feels his head bounce from side to side before stabilizing. Looking up, he thinks he sees Robby’s smirk. Despite the teasing and humiliation, Langdon can’t help the relief that floods this body at the sight.

His hands wobble in the air. He tries his best not to put any pressure on Robby as he swings his leg onto the other side of the bike. Not unlike stepping over his children’s messy pile of blocks.

Langdon leans back on the bike. Curling two hands around the passenger seat. The leather squeaks under the tension. His seat shakes to life beneath him when the key turns in the ignition.

As he tilts back, the wind brushes against the underside of his neck. It’s a harsh breeze, but it cools the heat that’s rising to his skin.

He could get used to this, but he also knows just how much of a horrific idea that is.

Their situation is appallingly complex, but being around Robby releases some sort of chemical in his head that tells him it’s acceptable to lean back into their familiar camaraderie.

And despite the anger, frustration, disappointment, guilt, and shame, and confusion Langdon’s been juggling for months, the pride at still being seen as an equal to Robby shines above everything else.

Robby turns around to face him. “It’s a bumpy ride. Hold on.”

“I just told you not to drive crazy. And what am I meant to hold onto? I’m not seeing an ‘oh-shit’ handle anywhere.”

But, he does as he’s told. Langdon watches his arms float in the air. His hands land on Robby’s biceps. Even over the coat and surely two other layers of shirts, he can sense the toned muscle laying underneath. His mind is spinning at the thought.

“No,” Robby chastises. Hears the soft voice through the clunky helmet say, “like this.”

Robby grabs Langdon’s right hand and brings it under his arm and on top of his chest. Brings Langdon’s other arm around too so his hands are interlocked on Robby’s sternum in some strange reverse CPR. 

Robby tugs at his shoulder to bring him closer. The helmet dinks him in the ear, but other than that, Langdon’s body is flush to Robby’s back.

“Don’t let go,” Robby says over his shoulder. He flicks a hand forward, and the visor gets shut over his eyes, blocking out the rays of the sunrise. Even Robby is dark in the bright morning glow.

He’s glad Robby decides at that moment to turn around, revving the bike. Langdon’s thoughts get lost with each mechanical groan, and he’s not sure he even remembers what Robby said to him in the first place.

They make the right turn that Robby would have made if Langdon hadn’t stood in the crosswalk. They’re heading towards a different entrance than Langdon’s used to. He tries to enjoy the breeze. Let the scenery pass by and take time to breathe in the air.

Each inhale is a new waft of Robby’s cologne, and all Langdon wants to do is claw at the helmet and rip it off. This must be a new type of torture. He can’t stop indulging in being completely and utterly surrounded by Robby. 

His fingers clench into the bulky winter coat. Feels Robby’s lungs move with each breath. It’s a calm, steady pace. He eases his own breathing to match Robby’s rhythm.

By the time they reach the hospital, he’s nearly lulled himself to sleep.

~•~

McKay [8:21 PM]: DUDE

Langdon pulls himself up from his slouched position on the couch. He looks over at his buzzing phone.

Langdon [8:22 PM]: Hey?

The reply is almost instantaneous. Like McKay was typing at the same time as him.

McKay [8:22 PM]: saw some hunk on the back of your man’s bike today…I think you need to watch out]

He feels a grin pull at his lips despite the even deeper pull he feels in his heart. The ER was busy enough to ignore this morning’s run-in with Robby, but the silence of his apartment does nothing to quell those thoughts.

Langdon [8:24 PM]: Would you believe me if I told you that was me??

McKay [8:24 PM]: SHUT THE HELL UP

Langdon can’t help the laugh that bursts out when he sees McKay’s caller ID pop up

“Tell me everything!” She shouts.

~•~

They talk. At some point. It’s easier to slide out together after work than it is to actively plan to meet up. Plans mean commitment, and if there’s one thing he knows about Robby, is that he’s terrible with being emotionally connected enough to something to form commitment.

At least, romantically commit, and Langdon really tries not to go down that train of thought, but it’s been five days since he’s felt Robby’s heart thrumming under his palms does a lot to a person.

Specifically, a person who is starting to accept that his steadfast respect for his mentor is more than just platonic.

He hopes that doesn’t show on his face when they slide into the restaurant. It’s one of the cheaper ones in the area that stays open late for the hospital staff rush, but tonight, Langdon can’t recognize many of the people. Maybe it’s an intentional effort on Robby’s part to avoid anyone who may see them together.

But then again, Robby wouldn’t have brought them here in the first place if that were true.

The possibilities throb in his head, nearly inducing a headache. By the time he looks up, he realizes he’s already given his drink order to the waitress.

“Thank you, Robby.”

Robby looks up at him from the menu. His glasses are low on his nose, his pupils smaller through the distorted lens. “For what?”

He shrugs. There’s a sugar packet on the table. The corners are spiky along Langdon’s fingerpad as he plays with the paper.

“Giving me a second chance. I fucked up and shouldn’t have tried to make you….”

Make him…what. Cover up for him? Help abet his potential felony charge? Lie to the board? Continue to let Langdon steal medication and put their patients at risk?

Not that Robby had actively known he was doing any of that. Maybe he should rephrase it as ‘thank you for not letting me convince you everything was alright.’

He winces at his own actions. Alanna keeps reassuring him that his addiction is only a small part of him. That the small doesn’t define the whole. It’s hard to feel that way when Robby’s right in front of him.

“You didn’t make me do anything,” Robby says, finally. He looks back down at the menu. “I am an adult who can make his own choices.”

“And you chose to give me a second chance.”

“Yes.”

Langon swallows. Wishes his drink, whatever he ordered, was here so that he had something to busy his jittery fingers.

“Why?”

Robby continues to read the menu like he hadn’t said anything. So much for having a conversation.

It must be entertaining to Robby to force Langdon to slow down and wait. To sit in silence and replay his words in own hand. Any reassurance he was hoping for comes at Robby’s pace, not the pace Langdon had tried to force them to dance to.

At least, forced Dana. The breakroom still brings a dizzying bout of shame.

Robby has always been particular about his words. Always choosing to strike at the right moment.

He remembers how he would take back every ‘good save,’ when Langdon had fucked up. And a few patients later, when Langdon would inevitably regain Robby’s good graces, would be gifted with a ‘nicely done, Doctor Langdon.’

He’s been trying to pat down the thrill of receiving Robby’s praise, but it hasn’t been working. A part of him thinks this…transformation of respect is becoming some sort of fetish. The pit in his stomach fluttering awake every time Robby compliments him tells him as much.

“You’ve always been a good doctor,” Robby says, unhurried. “And when you came to me about your back pain, I had ignored it.”

Langdon’s mouth flops open. The waitress comes back just in time to see it. She watches for a moment before deciding to come back later. They both ignore their drinks.

“Are you….apologizing to me?”

“If you have to ask, then I’m not doing a very good job.”

“What happened to me ‘betraying you’?”

Robby pulls a hand down over his mouth, and Langdon’s eyes track the motion. He’s starting to feel insane about every little motion Robby makes. He’s only been moving in his head when he replays memories. It’s…thrilling to see him in the flesh moving with intention and vitality.

“I should have listened when you came to me. This was on me.”

The complete shift in Robby’s demeanor compared to months ago is like an earthquake to Langdon’s head. He can’t think straight through his 180 in rationale.

Langdon chews on that for a moment. His fingers suddenly no longer need something to fiddle with. There’s more preoccupying matters at hand.

“My addiction wasn’t your fault, Robby,” Langdon attests slowly.

Robby isn’t looking him in the eyes. He stoops down low to the table, leaning in. His hair falls down and drapes dangerously close to Robby’s face.

“What happened to being a grown adult responsible for their own choices?” Langdon adds.

Robby shakes his head, like his own words are ridiculous. A flood of anger courses through him.

“Seriously, Robby—”

“I should have listened. I should have known.”

They’re going in circles. The slight panic in Robby’s eyes tells him either one or both of them is about to start spiraling. Langdon slams his hands on the table and pushes back in his chair.

“Do you want me to throw you a pity party or something? You need help. I know I fucked up, but at least I’m not so naive as to think your problems are my fault. So stop wallowing in your own self-loathing and go talk to someone about this, because it’s clear to me that you still have not changed. At least I’ve owned up to my shit.”

Langdon sees the accusatory finger he pointed at Robby shake in its resolve when he sees the big brown eyes staring back at him. Robby’s eyes narrow, sorrowful before hardening, and his mouth’s opening, and Langdon’s got the sour impression that he’s about to say something nasty that’ll get both of them riled up.

He throws his arms down to his side and starts to walk away. Before he reaches the door, he steps back to shout, “thanks for the drink!”

A bell rings above his head as storms out of the restaurant. Fuck Robby and his stupid, avoidant, guarded attitude. Langdon knows he's going to regret this at the start of their next shift together, but right now, scrambling out the door, it feels pretty damn good.