What almost was
Frank Langdon X fem!reader:
Warnings: graphic medical scenes, severe blood and injury, emotional trauma, intense hospital emergency, near-death experiences, no use of y/n, hurt/comfort vibes, happy ending, established relationship, suggestive language, possible inaccurate medical terms
Word count: 3.4K The Pitt masterlist
a/n: this was requested by a lovely anon
You were pulled out of your dream by the shrill screeching of your alarm. Your body flinched out of sleep, a groan escaping your lips as the noise continued to blare.
For some reason, Frank liked to be woken by what he referred to as “sounds of nature,” which meant that for the past four years you’d been waking up to the sound of roosters cawing.
You’d tried to tell Frank that people hadn’t woken up to that sound since maybe the 1800s, but he didn’t seem to care.
Frank liked waking up like he was living on a farm, and you liked seeing him wake up happy, so you sacrificed your earbuds in the name of love.
It did not, however, mean you enjoyed it.
You didn’t like the alarm in general — it meant peeling yourself out of bed and dragging your body toward what was sure to be a grueling shift — but you disliked Frank’s alarm even more.
You tugged your pillow from beneath your head and pulled it over your face to dull the sound.
“Make it stop,” you groaned into the pillow, your voice muffled.
After a second, the screeching finally stopped, and the bedroom was swallowed by silence once again. You sighed softly, grateful for the lack of noise.
Warm hands wrapped around your waist as Frank burrowed his nose under the pillow you were hiding beneath, his head settling in the crook of your neck. His nose bumped against your ear, tickling you and drawing out a soft laugh.
“Morning, baby,” Frank whispered against your ear.
You tugged the pillow off your face, turning your head so you could press a soft kiss to his lips.
“Morning,” you whispered against his smile.
You turned your body around, letting Frank pull you tight against his chest. You breathed in, savoring that familiar scent that just seemed to come with Frank. You wanted to stay like this for the rest of the day—unfortunately, you had work.
The alarm started blaring again. You groaned, which only made Frank laugh. He reached back blindly for his phone and shut it off.
“We better get up before we’re late.”
You slapped a hand over your face.
“Oh God. No. I refuse.”
Frank laughed again and tugged you even closer as you let your body sink deeper into the mattress. He pressed a kiss to your temple.
“Just think—tomorrow we’re both off. No alarms. No trauma bays. No patients throwing up on my shoes.”
His lips dragged along your cheek.
“We can stay in bed as long as we want… go to Altius for dinner… and then I’m taking you home, and you’re gonna be screaming my name all night long.”
A laugh escaped you before you could stop it. “Frank.”
He kissed that spot just under your ear—the one he knew turned you into absolute putty.
“What? I’m motivating you.”
When he pulled back, you brushed your nose against his, leaning in for another kiss.
“First we have to work twelve hours,” he whispered against your mouth.
You moved back with a dramatic groan.
“Way to ruin the moment.”
The smell of stale coffee and antiseptic hit as soon as you walked through the double doors. You and Frank ended up standing shoulder to shoulder at the board, your name already splattered under three cases.
“Looks like I’ve got a possible radius and ulna fracture,” you said. “What’d they give you, Frankie?”
He squinted at his line. “A fuckin’ abscess drainage. I swear they’re assigning me the boring ones on purpose.”
You bumped your elbow into him. “That’s because you need to be nicer to people.”
Frank turned like he was ready to protest, then your offer sank in. “You’re taking the abscess?” he said, eyes brightening.
You shrugged, casual. “Sure. You can take the fracture. Grab Mel and knock it out.”
He leaned in until his lips brushed your ear.
“God, you’ve never been sexier. I’m tempted to bend you over the nurses’ station right now.”
You rolled your eyes and shoved him lightly.
“Calm down, cowboy. This just means you owe me. Next case I don’t want? You’re taking it. No complaints.”
He backed away with that stupid wink.
“You got it, baby.”
As you walked toward Dana, she shook her head at the sight of Frank disappearing into the hall.
“You are way too nice to him,” she muttered.
“It’s my weakness,” you said, because… yeah. It was.
You found Javardi triple-checking her pockets like she’d misplaced her entire existence.
“Javardi!” you called. “Have you seen an abscess drainage before?”
She perked up. “Not in the ED. I’ve only seen videos.”
“Perfect. You’ll observe this one with me. Ask whatever you need. And then I’ll have Dana assign us the next abscess that comes in — that one’s yours. Deal?”
Her eyes widened like you’d just handed her a Christmas bonus.
“Yes! Thank you!”
The patient was in his late fifties, a big guy, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. His chart said thigh abscess. The swelling under the blanket confirmed it.
“Hello, Mr. Bernstein,” you said warmly. “I’ll be your doctor today, and this is Dr. Javardi — she’ll be observing. I understand you have an abscess. How long has this been going on?”
“A week and a half,” he grunted. “Hurts like hell. I don’t even know what I did.”
“They can be really painful,” you said gently. “Today we’ll numb the area, drain it, and get you started on antibiotics and pain control. You may need to come back in a couple days for a dressing change. Any questions?”
“No. Let’s do it.”
You pulled the instrument tray closer. Behind you, Javardi laid out the supplies with careful precision.
“Alright, I’m going to disinfect the area and then inject lidocaine for numbing,” you explained. “The lidocaine burns — I’m sorry in advance.”
As you swabbed the skin, Bernstein glanced at Javardi.
“You a student doctor?”
She smiled shyly. “Yes, sir.”
“That’s impressive. Congrats. What year are you?”
You weren’t paying much attention to the exchange — just focusing on getting this guy fixed up and out of the room as fast as possible. There were other people who needed the bed.
Maybe if you had been listening, you would’ve noticed how he wasn’t even looking at Javardi as she chattered nervously about being a student doctor. Maybe you would’ve caught the exact moment his eyes flicked to the scalpel. The precise second his body leaned forward to grab it.
But you weren’t paying attention.
So you didn’t notice any of it until white-hot pain exploded in your side.
Everything happened at once.
Javardi’s scream tore through the room. The sound that came out of you wasn’t even a scream—more like the air had been punched out of your lungs all at once. Your hand flew to your side, warm blood already slicking your fingers.
Dana burst through the doorway, eyes wide as she searched for the source of the scream. When she saw you slumped on the floor, your palm stained red, she didn’t hesitate.
“Code white! Security — I need security!”
Robby and Ahmed barreled in behind her, going straight for Bernstein. The room detonated into chaos: shouting, the crash of a rolling cart, Bernstein snarling something incoherent as he fought them.
But all of it felt… weirdly distant. Your vision wasn’t focusing the way it should. Your ears rang. The pain was white-hot, stabbing—and then somehow ice-cold underneath.
Dana dropped to her knees beside you, eyes huge. “Jesus—okay, okay—pressure, we need pressure on that wound—Javardi, get Langdon, now!”
You tried to speak, but nothing came out. Dana pressed down on your side, and you let out a raw, broken groan.
“I know, hon. I’m sorry, I know. I have to keep you from bleeding out.”
Frank barreled into the room like someone had launched him from a canon. He didn’t even look at Bernstein or the chaos around him — his eyes found you instantly.
He froze.
“Holy shit,” he whispered.
Then he dropped to the floor beside you, hands cupping your face, his voice too calm to be real.
“Hey, baby. I’m here. Look at me. Don’t worry.”
His gaze flicked down to where Dana’s hands were drenched in your blood. His eyes snapped back up, meeting Dana’s — her expression mirroring exactly what he felt.
You swallowed hard, tasting metal.
“Frankie…”
“Stay with me, baby,” he blurted, breath shaking. “Don’t you dare close your eyes, okay?”
“We need to move her, Frank — if we don’t, she’ll—” Dana stammered.
“I know!” Frank snapped, louder than you’d ever heard him.
But it wasn’t anger that made him raise his voice — it was fear. Dana knew that, so she didn’t take it personally.
Javardi was talking to Robby, stumbling through an explanation about how she hadn’t seen it coming, how there were no signs of distress. Robby called for Princess, asking her to take Javardi somewhere else — the girl was clearly in shock. Princess nodded, guiding her out by the shoulders. As they passed you, you could hear Javardi sobbing apologies the whole way out.
Someone touched Frank’s shoulder, snapping his attention upward. Mel crouched beside him, her expression sharp and focused.
“What do you need?” she asked.
Frank didn’t hesitate.
“You’re gonna take over pressure. You have to be aggressive. I don’t care if she screams — she’ll bleed out otherwise.”
You barely inhaled before Mel and Dana switched hands.
The scream tore out of you before you could stop it.
Frank gathered you into his arms, lifting you like you weighed nothing.
“We’re going to the trauma bay. Mel — keep that pressure. Don’t stop. One, two, three—”
He stood, muscles tensing as he carried you out while Mel kept her hands clamped to your side.
People jumped out of the way. You heard gasps, someone calling for a crash cart, a nurse shouting to prep a trauma room.
Frank’s breath was hot and ragged against your hair.
“Stay awake,” he kept saying. “Baby, stay awake. Don’t do this.”
Bright lights. Cold air. Too many hands.
They lowered you onto the bed, and you cried out when Mel’s pressure shifted for even a second. Perla grabbed scissors, slicing open your scrubs and exposing the full wound. It wasn’t small. A sickening amount of blood pooled beneath you.
Frank’s voice cracked.
“Fuck.”
Robby rushed in beside you.
“I need TXA on board now! Give me ketamine, two bags of O-neg STAT! Langdon, keep her with you!”
Frank cupped your cheek with blood-soaked fingers, forcing your gaze up to his.
“Hey. I’m right here. Stay with me. Stay calm.”
Your vision shimmered. Your ears buzzed.
Frank tried to smile.
“You always said if you were ever hurt you’d want Robby as your doctor instead of me. That’s still kinda rude, by the way.”
You actually felt a weak flicker of amusement.
Your hand — slippery with blood — lifted halfway before you could stop it. Frank caught it instantly, pressing it to his mouth.
“Frankie…” you gurgled.
His breathing faltered.
Behind him, a monitor beeped erratically.
Then— It didn’t.
A flat, continuous tone filled the room.
Everyone froze.
Frank’s head whipped toward the monitor.
“No,” he whispered.
The world went silent.
Robby shouted from somewhere far away, “Push epi! Start compressions! Now!”
Frank snapped back into motion and climbed onto the gurney, starting compressions himself. A sickening crack echoed—your sternum giving way.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered raggedly as he pumped your chest. “But you’re not leaving me. You don’t get to leave.”
Minutes stretched—endless, brutal.
Twenty minutes later, Robby’s voice was quiet.
“Frank… it’s time.”
“No!” Frank barked, still compressing. “We keep going! She’s not gone!”
He leaned down, forehead pressing to yours.
“Tomorrow—I was gonna propose. The ring’s hidden in my locker, top shelf. You can’t miss that. You promised me a lifetime, baby—don’t you dare—”
Dana’s voice broke. “Frank… she’s gone.”
His entire body trembled. Tears streamed down his face as he choked, “We’re supposed to get married. Have kids. Grow old. I love her. I love her—”
Robby placed his hands on Frank’s. “Frank… time of death is 11:42.”
Frank collapsed over you with a raw, broken sound no one in the room would ever forget.
Mel never stopped applying pressure.
And then—
A blip on the monitor.
Another.
Robby turned. “Dana—pulse check!”
“I have something!” Dana gasped.
“Dr. King—on the gurney. DO NOT lift your hand. Hang another liter. Push norepi. OR, now!”
Frank kissed your forehead before they raced you out of the room. He stood there shaking, covered in your blood.
Robby took his shoulders. “We got her back. She has a shot. Garcia will take care of her. She’s a fighter.”
Frank sobbed. “This was my case. She switched with me.”
“No,” Robby said firmly. “Don’t do that. You saved her. Those compressions saved her.”
Frank broke, pulling Robby into a hug. “Thank you for not giving up on her.”
“It’s not me you should be thanking. Mel’s the one who kept pressure even after we called it. She’s the one who gave her a chance.”
Robby patted Frank’s back as he finally pulled away from the hug.
“She’s gonna make it, Frank.”
He nodded absentmindedly, his eyes still glued to the door they’d wheeled you through. Robby left the room, leaving Frank alone with his thoughts for a moment.
He felt exhausted all of a sudden, the adrenaline that had been pumping through him finally draining from his body. He stumbled out of the room, his eyes immediately finding Mel talking to Robby. Her scrubs and hands were covered in blood.
Your blood.
Frank’s stomach lurched at the sight, but he forced himself to walk toward her anyway. Mel’s head snapped over to him at the sound of his shoes against the floor.
“Dr. Langdon, they’ve started the procedure, she’s—”
But before she could finish, Frank stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her in a tight, desperate hug. Mel let out a startled sound. Frank’s voice broke against her shoulder.
“God, you saved her, Mel. You fuckin’ saved her. I can’t thank you enough.”
Mel awkwardly patted his back, still clearly unsure of what to do.
“You’re welcome, Dr. Langdon.”
When he finally let her go Dana was at his side, her hand moving to rest on his back as she gave him a soft look.
“Frank. Go shower. I promise—if we hear anything, I’ll come get you myself.”
He looked like he wanted to argue, like leaving the hallway meant abandoning you somehow—but Dana just held his stare. Eventually his shoulders dropped, and he nodded.
The locker room felt wrong. Too quiet. Too normal. Frank stripped out of his blood-soaked scrubs with shaking hands. When he stepped under the water, the red spiraled down the drain in thin, diluted streams. He pressed his palms to the tile and let the water hit the back of his neck. His chest hurt. His eyes burned. His breath kept catching in that half-sob way he couldn't stop.
By the time he walked out, hair still dripping, fresh scrubs clinging to him, Javardi was waiting. Her face crumpled as soon as she saw him. Frank could tell just from looking at her that she'd been crying just as much as he had.
“I’m—I’m so sorry,” she cried. “I froze. I got in the way. I should’ve—”
Frank let out a sigh, his hand moving to rest gently on Javardi’s shoulder as her face twisted into a deep frown.
“This wasn’t your fault, Javardi. You couldn’t have known what he was going to do—there weren’t any signs. You said so yourself.”
Javardi stared at him, tears spilling freely down her cheeks.
“Don’t beat yourself up about it, okay? Just go home. Get some rest.”
She nodded, crying even harder, and backed away down the hallway.
Hours later, you slowly slipped into consciousness.
Everything hurt. A deep, throbbing, full-body ache that made your breath stutter. When you tried to shift—even a little—a sharp stab tore through your side, and you let out a groan.
Frank jerked awake instantly.
His head had been resting on the mattress beside you, his fingers tangled with yours. His eyes shot open—red, puffy, glassy. He looked wrecked.
You blinked at him, your voice scratchy. “Frankie… you look terrible.”
He let out a weak laugh—half relief, half broken sob. “You literally died, and that’s the first thing you say?”
You tried to laugh, but the motion made your voice twist in pain. Frank immediately shushed you, lifting from his seat so he could press a soft kiss to your temple.
“God, I love you,” he whispered against your skin—skin that, thankfully, was no longer cold and clammy like it had been the last time he kissed you.
“I love you too.” You squeezed his hand as best you could as he settled back into his seat.
For a long moment he just stared at you, drinking in the fact that you were alive—breathing—talking. The adrenaline was gone, but the terror still clung to him.
“What… what happened?” you whispered.
Frank swallowed thickly.
“We almost lost you.” His voice cracked. “We did lose you. For a minute.” He dropped his forehead to your hand. “Don’t ever do that again.”
You smiled faintly. “I’ll try my best.”
Frank let out this shaky little laugh at your words — the kind of sound someone makes after almost drowning. It lasted all of two seconds before the smile fell right off his face.
He went quiet. Completely still. And then his chin wobbled. His breath hitched. His eyes filled again, overflowing before he even tried to stop it.
“Frank…” you whispered.
He shook his head like he was mad at himself for breaking. A tear hit the blanket near your hip. You squeezed his hand weakly, your thumb brushing over his knuckles.
“Hey. It’s okay. I’m okay. I promise.”
His shoulders caved inward, like everything he’d been holding back finally punched through.
“I was so fucking scared,” he choked out. “I thought—God, I thought I lost you for good.”
You dragged in a slow breath, ignoring the ache that lanced through your ribs.
“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
He looked at you, like he still didn’t quite believe it. Then he let out this humorless little scoff.
“Life’s too fucking short, isn’t it?”
You blinked, confused. “Frank…?”
He inhaled sharply, sat back just a bit, and wiped his face with the heel of his hand. Then his gaze softened in this heartbreaking way, and he shook his head.
“I was gonna wait,” he said quietly. “Better circumstances, you know? Something romantic. Something… not this.”
Your eyebrows lifted slightly.
He swallowed hard. “But after today? After watching you—after hearing that monitor—” His voice cracked again. “You never know what’s gonna happen. So I’m done waiting. I’m done pretending I’m not ready.”
He reached into the pocket of his scrub pants — the new pair Dana forced him into — and pulled out a small, black velvet box. His hand shook.
Your breath caught, and pain flared in your torso. You let out a soft gasp.
“Frank—are you seriously proposing to me while I’m lying in a hospital bed?”
He gave a watery laugh.
“Yeah. I guess I am.” His thumb brushed the lid of the box. “So… what do you say?”
You stared at him — at his wrecked face, his trembling lip, his desperate, hopeful eyes — and your heart swelled painfully in a way that had nothing to do with your injuries.
“Yes,” you whispered. “Of course I’ll marry you.”
Frank let out a relieved, broken laugh that instantly dissolved into more tears. He leaned in, pressing his forehead lightly to yours, careful of all your lines and bandages.
“Thank God,” he breathed. “Thank God.”
He kissed your hand — over and over — whispering your name each time like a prayer.
Frank slid the ring onto your finger with hands that were still trembling, letting out a shaky breath like he’d been holding it for hours. His eyes flicked up to yours, still glossy but finally… lighter.
“So,” he murmured, giving you that crooked, exhausted smile, “how’s it feel to be Mrs. Langdon?”
You blinked, took the smallest inhale — and immediately regretted it.
“Honestly?” you rasped. “Like shit.”
There was half a beat of silence before Frank barked out a laugh, trying to smother it against your arm.
You groaned, “No—don’t make me laugh, it hurts—”
“Sorry, sorry,” he said, absolutely not sorry, still laughing through what might’ve been lingering tears.
You started laughing too, breathy and pained but real, and reached over to squeeze his hand. “God, we’re a disaster.”
Frank dropped his forehead against your arm, still smiling. “Yeah. But I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
You smiled at him, nose bumping into his as you gave him a soft kiss before whispering, “Me neither.”
